


Check Yes, Juliet

by Lehuka



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Panic Attacks, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Romance, Banter, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Being an Idiot, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is Extra, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Is this a kissing book?, Listen to me people, Logic | Logan Sanders Is A Good Friend, M/M, Minor Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Good Friend, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Sweetheart, Nicknames, Octopus Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Parent Deceit | Janus Sanders, Past Child Abuse, Pining Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Prinxiety is main, Protective Deceit | Janus Sanders, Romance, Smitten Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Spider Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Theres some Logic/Morality if you're lookin, read the tags, royal au, what are these tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24443500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lehuka/pseuds/Lehuka
Summary: Once upon a time… there were two kingdoms.Once upon a time, they had been one, united by a wise queen and a kind king, which changed when their sons came into power.Once upon a time, there were two brothers who disagreed on many things, so the court agreed to separate the one kingdom into two equal ones for each of the sons.Once upon a time... there was the Eastern Kingdom was ruled by Remus with the assistance of his advisor and caretaker Janus.In the West, Roman ruled over the western portion with the aid of his parental nursemaid-like figure who takes care of Roman and the rest of the castle (and in some ways, kingdom), Patton, and his calculating advisor/tutor Logan who maintained a regulated and constant prosperity through well done laws.They both ruled well, though differently, and collaborated often despite their many squabbles over the years in honor of their late parents.And Roman was happy.Or at the very least… as happy as he’d ever been.But things change, don't they? People enter your life, and introduce you to something you'd never known you needed.
Relationships: Anxiety & Creativity & Dark Creativity & Deceit & Logic & Morality (Sanders Sides), Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 113
Kudos: 150





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michellechen2004](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michellechen2004/gifts).



Once upon a time… there were two kingdoms. 

Once upon a time, they had been one, united by a wise queen and a kind king. 

But once upon a time, the king and queen had both fallen extremely ill and were forced to leave the kingdom to their young twin sons who were merely young adults. 

Once upon a time, there were two brothers who disagreed on many things, so the court agreed to separate the one kingdom into two equal ones for each of the sons. 

Once upon a time... the Eastern Kingdom was ruled by Remus, who preferred harsher punishments but lighter work, and kept things in balance with the assistance of his advisor and caretaker Janus (though most simply called him Deceit because of his silver tongued maneuverings in difficult political situations, one of which earned him the burns adorning half of his face) and a mysterious head of house that only a selected few have seen, let alone met formally. 

In the West, Roman who championed hard work and the power of a beautiful treasure at the end of the day in the form of art ruled over the eastern portion with the aid of his parental nursemaid-like figure who takes care of Roman and the rest of the castle (and in some ways, kingdom), Patton, and his calculating advisor/tutor Logan who maintained a regulated and constant prosperity through well done laws. 

They both ruled well, though differently, and collaborated often despite their many squabbles over the years in honor of their late parents. 

And each were happy. 

Or at the very least… as happy as they’d ever been. 

~~~~~

Roman was making his daily rounds of the palace. The staff was out and about at this time of day, when the sun was still high in the sky provided suitable lighting for the scrubbing of the floors and dusting of the heavy red curtains. 

“Good morning, all!” Roman announces, his crisp white princely attire and red sash a far throw from the maid and valet uniforms that the rest of the people wore. They all laughed and waved at the prince (though he was king, they still insisted on calling him Prince, just as some still called Remus the Duke when he’d been a king for years now and a prince at the beginning): Roman greets each by name most having worked at the palace for their entire lives, sometimes over multiple lifetimes. Roman strived himself on the knowledge that each one of the people working at his palace lived a nearly regular life. They have their jobs at the castle; they are allowed, no, encouraged to marry and love; bear children… and most of them can leave if they’d like. The only ones who can’t are the ones who are in debt and owe money to the crown which in that case they must work it off. 

Not a lot of people have it that way though: Logan’s plans for the workforce were nearly 100% successful and the country is extremely profitable. Roman was thrilled for his people: he’s giving back in one of the best ways! Patton was endlessly proud. 

Roman wanders his gargantuan white halls, smiling and waving at all he can see. And then, entering the foyer, he notices a form he has never seen before in the palace. From the stance, he can tell that the figure is a male: he scrubs the large windows with a peculiar hood on his head. 

_ A hooded figure! Aha, must be an assassin! How did he make it through the guards?? No matter! I will follow him, very sneakily, and then vanquish him when the time is right!  _

The hooded figure sighs, a tired sound, and then puts the cloth in a nearby bucket. The assassin then takes the bucket and begins to walk away. He sets a fast pace, but Roman follows closely. The prince knows every single corner of his palace: he hides behind corners and pillars as the hooded figure strides through the halls. He appears to have no real destination, going around in circles several times before changing paths. 

Roman keeps one hand on the sheathed sword at his hip. Just in case. 

Roman struggles with the sheathed sword that is just… just a tad bit stuck at the moment… and doesn’t notice as he walks into the center of the hall. In a second, his shoulders slam against the nearby wall. The assassin has him, his hands braced behind his back and face to face with the man. 

You can imagine his immense shock when he finds that the assassin isn’t a scarred Dragon Witch type character, but a bewitching man. His kohl lined eyes spear right into him, the pockets of glittering black beneath this man’s eyes nothing short of stunning. It draws attention to his pupils… and oh god… why does this assassin have purple eyes? Was he cursed? Or just a spectacular colour? Though he grimaces and his lips are turned down… Roman can’t help but fantasize what they’d look like in a smile. He’d bet it would be the prettiest thing in the whole kingdom. 

They appear to be the same age, as well… though as if from different worlds entirely. Roman’s royal reds and bright whites, and this man’s mysterious purples and haughty blacks. 

Roman can’t bring himself to say anything. Spellbound, completely… Perhaps this is how the assassin ensnared his victims? Some kind of spell? 

The man snaps his fingers bluntly in front of Roman’s regal face. 

“Hello, hi, hey, what the fuck are you doing Princey, you stalking me?” 

No one, not even Remus, has  _ ever  _ talked to him like that. 

He finds it somehow alluring. 

“N-no! Of course not! I thought that you were a threat!” 

“Princey, Princey, would a  _ ‘threat’  _ be wearing a valet’s uniform?” He hisses. 

“It could be a disguise!” 

“God, how did we end up with such a thick headed king? I am a valet!”   


“Then why were you going in all these weird directions?” 

“Because  _ someone _ was following me!” 

_ Well, when you put it like that… _

Roman feels like a dolt now. 

“But… why the hood?” 

The man groans and pulls it down. Without it hindering his vision, he realizes how deliciously dark and handsomely mysterious this man truly is. His hair, paired so closely with his eyes, seems to be tinted purple. Whether that’s a trick of the light and his eyes or actual colouration Roman can’t tell. The man drops his strong grip on the prince and sets him down. “The head maid made me wear it. Doesn’t want passerby or  _ oh his highness _ to get freaked out.” 

“I’m not freaked out. It’s very unique! And it’s so hard to find something truly original nowadays,” Roman smiles at this man in his charming way, “And since you do appear to genuinely be a servant here, if you’d do me the honor of giving me your name… you see I try to know all the names of my staff-” 

“I’m not your ‘staff’. I’m only here ‘cuz I need to be, Princey. Trust me, there’s literally a hundred places I’d rather be right now, and none of them are working away and tittering with the crown prince in some stuffy palace. If you don’t mind, I  _ need  _ to be headed back to the quarters now. They’ll have my head for being so late…” 

Roman stands, shell-shocked, as this valet just… just walks away. No bow, or incline of head either. He should call someone! Get him punished for disrespecting the king, or something! But he can’t bring himself to. He watches the stranger pull up his hood and grip the bucket tighter. Roman steps forwards. 

“Hey, I am your king!”

No reaction. 

“Focus on me!” 

Nothing. 

“Please, at least tell me your name, or I may just call you Juliet~” Roman calls after him. The man stops and turns around, an incredulous look on his fine features. 

“You are  _ not  _ calling me Juliet.” 

“I will!”

“Do not do that!” 

“You better tell me your real name…  _ Juliet _ … or you’re gonna be stuck with it,” Roman prods, hands on hips as he triumphantly looks at him down the hallway. He rolls his eyes, and turns around. Roman’s about to make another quip when:

“Virgil,” 

“What?”

“My name. My name is Virgil,” Virgil says, and glances over his shoulder. The hood falls back just slightly, and Roman can see a shadow of a smirk. “I’ll see you around, Princey,” 

Roman grins cheerfully and bows with a flourish. 

“I will await fervently for our next escapades, fair Virgil,” Roman croons. Virgil snorts. 

“Bye, Sir Sing-a-Lot,” 

“Adios, Charlie Frown!” 

Giddy, Roman can’t wait to relay the events that had just transpired to Patton. 

~~~~~

“Kiddo, that’s so great! I’m so glad you made a new friend! I knew when I met Virgil when he was getting settled that he’d fit in nicely, be a good pal for you,” 

“But that’s just the thing, Padre: he’s the first person that I can remember that didn’t  _ want _ to be my friend! He wasn’t sucking up to me or anything!” 

“Is that what you wanted?” Patton asks carefully. Roman lies on his bed, topless as he’s preparing for bed, and his loyal caretaker Patton adjusts his round lenses as they converse. Roman sighs majestically. 

“I mean, I like it when people are nice to me, but… this was so different! And he’s so cool, Patton, with these strange eyes, agh! You know how much I treasure originality,” Roman reminds Patton, who laughs in memory. 

“Who could forget, slugger? Now, you’ve got to go to bed,” Patton instructs, using the fatherly voice Roman’s grown up with. Patton is at least a few decades older than Roman, though it doesn’t seem it most of the time. Logan had once imparted to the prince that Logan and Patton were close to the same age… but Roman can’t believe that. Patton seems so young and playful, whereas Logan despite his slender form was forever an old scholar. 

“But Paaattoonnn,” 

“Hey, I’ll tell you what: sleep now, and when you wake up I’ll get you Virgil’s schedule for the week. What do you say?” 

“Aaaand move Logan’s tutoring till after I hold town hall at noon so I have time?” 

“Pshaw, what do you take your pops for, an amateur?” Patton laughs, ruffling Roman’s hair before blowing out the candle and departing the room. 

“Hey Patton?” 

“Mhmm?” 

“Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome, kiddo,” 


	2. II

Roman wakes up early, to the sound of singing birds. He, of course, sings along merrily and dresses himself. Usually the staff comes in and dresses him, but today’s a special day. Today, he’s going to go and surprise Virgil. 

Patton had left the schedule as promised, and it’s most fortuitous that he will be cleaning the museum room today. The one right by his bedroom, the one filled with treasures made by Roman himself. If he can’t impress Virgil with that, he has no idea what will. 

He’s striving to make that emo smile today. 

The museum room is huge, a large staircase with red carpet in the middle in the very center of the room. It has amazing treasures in every which way. 400 page scripts, epic paintings of the plays he’s starred in, epics he’s composed for singing, majestic pieces of art… 

_ There’s no way Virgil will turn a blind eye to this!  _ Roman doesn’t understand why he’s striving for attention for that Panic at the Everywhere guy, but he is. And Roman the King of this land does not back down from a challenge. 

“Princey, what are you doing here? Wallowing in your many  _ grandiose  _ accomplishments, maybe?” a dry voice deadpans from behind him. Roman jumps, frightened by the sudden intrusion. 

“Good morning to you too, Detective Gloom,” Roman smiles at him brightly, his waving upon horseback golden grin. And Virgil… Virgil simply rolls his eyes and smirks. His hood is back in play and pulled over his eyes just barely. 

“How long did it take you to come up with that one? Must have taken all of the court’s knowledge,” Virgil quips, his voice slick with sarcasm. 

“Ah no, I actually thought of it right now. It’s not too hard, you’re very inspirational material,” Roman grins as he returns. Before Virgil could fire back a cleverly handed retort, Roman’s led him over to his script. “Now my little emo nightmare, are you aware that I’ve composed a litany of different plays? Musicals, great heroic journeys… I mean, when they were first performed, I must say that I  _ shone _ ! Have you ever done any acting or singing?” 

“Meh,” instantly, Virgil is a million miles away. Where his purple eyes were sparkling a moment ago… they are now cloudy. While Roman attempts to hold his attention, Virgil slides away ghost-like to dust off a bust of Roman. 

Over the next hours, nothing changes. Roman holds his attention for a few moments talking about one of his one of his great accomplishments, and then Virgil pulls his hood over his eyes even more and slinks off. 

“Your majesty, I’ve got to be going now. It was pleasant to listen-err talk to you today,” Virgil notes quietly before taking his duster and other cleaning supplies and traipse up the stairs. 

_ Wait, no, come back! Don’t you like me?  _

Roman dashes up the stairs, and stands in front of Virgil. Virgil darkens, like a storm brewing, and gestures with his head to  _ move, fucker. _

“No, no, we’re not done talking yet-erk!” Roman, as he attempts to walk into Virgil to prevent him from leaving, accidentally trips over the carpeting and tumbles head over heels down the stairs. No injuries, of course he’s agile that way, but not agile enough to halt the seemingly endless tumble down the stairs. 

Finally, Roman’s landed on the end of the stairs. Legs high in the air; a dazed expression on his face. 

And then… like music… a snort. Then full out laughter. Roman blinks a few times to clear his dizzy vision and sees Virgil chortling with laughter above him, cleaning supplies abandoned at the top of the stairs. 

Virgil’s face is open, and his hood down, and he’s laughing… it’s a splendid sound. Roman can’t help but laugh alongside him joyously. Inevitably, sadly, it tapers off into nothing but a smile. 

But oh… what a smile it is. How can someone so surely dark and brooding have an adorable little smile like rainbows and fairies? It may just be the most enchanting thing he’s ever seen. And Roman has seen quite a bit of magic in his life. 

“Hey… Princey. You okay? No brain damage? I mean, outside the stuff you already had that makes you run around singing like a loon,” 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Roman laughs, allowing Virgil to pull him up. They walk up the stairs together, and to the next location Virgil has to get to work. 

As Roman leaves to go to his town hall, he mentions to Virgil, “You have a really pretty smile,”

“Oh… erm… thanks. Princey,” with a scarcely hidden blush, Virgil ducks out with a wave to go clean the bath. 

It is decided then and there. 

Roman will go to great lengths to see that smile on that emo’s face again. 

A smile dons his own as many creative great plans swirl in his mind. 

First, he needs to get Virgil on a balcony. 

~~~~~

“Okay, you two are the people I’m closest to in this place, and I trust you with my life. Now, how can we get a valet to a balcony? It has to be secluded, so nobody else hears us, and it has to make  _ me _ look good, and not suspicious,” Roman paces the room frustratedly. He’s been trying to get his grand Romeo and Juliet scene figured out for the past three months now… and no dice. In the meantime, he’s found Virgil at least every other day. Sometimes multiple times in one day! 

And he’s tried everything to woo this guy into liking him. He sang him a beautiful ballad: Virgil groaned and complained.  _ Perhaps it is because that one is too famous and overused!  _ Wrote him an  _ original  _ song,  _ just  _ for him: Virgil smirked and asked how long it took him to do that. So he wrote him a  _ musical _ : Virgil fell asleep halfway through.  _ So maybe that was too long! I’ll make him a shorter dance routine! _ The dance routine was awesome, until he tripped on something: Virgil smiled and laughed at that, so it wasn’t a total loss. Roman painted a large portrait of Virgil, which took him  _ hours _ : Virgil asked for the sheet that adorned it and made a quite beautiful haunting painting of darkness and spiders. Roman gave him incredible vibrant violet roses, incredible foods from all kinds of places, an expensive new kohl palette… Virgil would take it, sure, but it may be because it would be looked down upon to decline a gift from his king. He seemed to like the flowers, Virgil had, after all, allowed him to tuck one of them behind his ear: the kohl too, but that wasn’t something Roman did of his own accord; it was because Virgil had mentioned he’d been running short. And Virgil was always down to eat sweets. It was cute. 

_ Cute in a friendly way! Yeah.  _

And now he was deliberating with his trusted advisor (and who he’d like to consider a friend) Logan, and Patton. Roman was  _ sure _ that this Romeo and Juliet shtick will make Virgil become really close. Logan pushes up his glasses and sighs.

“My king, I really do not see the point of all of these. Why are you trying to woo this man, when you have plenty of other objectives to complete?” 

“Oh Loganberry, it’s important to him! And you know, when you’re happier usually the results are better too, right?” Patton reminds Logan, rubbing his shoulder against the other mans. Logan looks away for a moment, a small blush dusting his cheeks. “What I think he’s trying to say, Roman, is that he doesn’t want the rest of your life to suffer because you’re not getting a real response from Virgil,” 

Roman, who was blatantly ignoring their smart warnings, snaps his fingers in a eureka moment. “Padre, you manage the waitstaff, right? Their schedules and the rest?”

“Yup! Gotta make sure everyone’s taken care of!” Patton smiles brightly. 

“Can’t you just move Virgil’s quarters to one of the guest bedrooms with a balcony?” 

Patton cringes inwardly, and bites on a nail. Logan swats his hand from his mouth with a glare to stop the bad habit. 

“But kiddo, don’t you think that the other staff will be angry that you’re giving Virgil the special treatment? They’ll probably hate him for it… and I don’t want that… god knows that Virge has been through enough,” Patton shakes his head. Roman freezes in place. 

“Okay a couple things there, Pat. First of all, yes good point, I’ll just- mhmm make up a reason and send him there?”

“Roman, if I may,” Logan adjusts his glasses again, “You are the king. You do not need a reason for something so menial as this. Just order him,” 

“But Lo, that’s not romantic at all!” Patton protests. 

“Padre, please, I’m not attempting to do this because I’m attracted to him in  _ that way _ , goodness,” Roman scoffs. Sweat beads at his brow.  _ Am I?  _ Patton and Logan give him mirrored incredulous looks. “Really! Anyways, secondly WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT VIRGIL??” 

“I mean, I don’t know if I should say, it was on his transfer documents when I got him all situated… it seems pretty private, kiddo,” 

Roman thinks for a moment, internally debating whether or not to pester further about it.  _ No, I won’t treat him any differently. He’s still going to be Juliet, no matter what happens. Even if he’s part dragon. _

“Patton, I’ll keep it a secret. It won’t leave this room! Right, Logan?” 

“I am slightly offended that you even had to ask,” Logan deadpans. Roman makes finger guns at Logan and clicks his tongue. 

“My man! Anyway, Padre, please?” Roman sits down next to Patton, who pats his shoulder in a fatherly sense. 

“Alright, alright. Let’s see if I remember… ah yes. Virgil is one of the people here working off his debt,” 

“How is that possible? To have such a debt that needed to be indentured at that age…” Logan protests, “That has been remedied, and should be impossible!” 

“Let me finish! Virgil is working off his parent’s debt. Due to some occurrences, his parents were criminals in Remus’s kingdom, which is why we haven’t heard of them I guess. They stole a lot of gold and other valuables, and when they were captured… they somehow escaped and left the kingdom. Since their only next of kin was a preteen Virgil, he’s going to be working for years to come in order to pay it off,” Patton nods solemnly. Roman feels sick to his stomach, and Logan looks even more pale than usual. 

“That is illegal in this kingdom. We shall release him from the confines of indentured servitude immediately-” Logan deliberates, only to be cut off by Patton. He fumes for a moment, but Patton can get away with anything. If Roman were to interrupt Logan during one of his lectures… just the thought of it makes him shiver. 

“Loganberry, it doesn’t work like that in Remus’s kingdom. Since the crime originated there, he’s still under their rules. And even if they changed it now…”

“He’d still be in debt because he’s of age currently,” Roman finishes, the pieces clicking together.  _ Poor Virgil… that explains a lot. This isn’t even where he grew up either. And there’s so much more that I don’t know about him that I can’t learn from Patton or Logan… like why his hair and eyes are like that. Or why he had to be moved to here.  _ Roman deduces. 

Patton takes one look at his face and brushes Roman’s hair back. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you! Agh, I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I? This wasn’t the right thing to do at all! I’m sorry...” Carefully, as if unsure, Logan’s elegant hand covers Patton’s over his thigh. Roman’s cupid senses tingle. 

“You only did what was asked of you. The perpetrators of this are not you, but of the horrendous parentals of the valet in question. Alright?” Logan’s eyes are piercing behind his glasses, and Patton bites his lip but nods anyway. Logan is, almost all of the time, correct about these sorts of things. He’s very astute that way. 

“And Padre, this isn’t going to change my plan at all! If anything, I’m going to try doubly as hard to get him to smile!” Roman flashes a bright grin at the two confidants. “And now! To write a grand letter!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments questions concerns!


	3. III

“Virgil! Hey, Tall Dark and Emo! Hold up for a second!” 

Virgil sighs beneath his hood. He was just trying to get back to the servant’s quarters. He just wanted to get his work done. But if time has shown anything, trying to get away from Roman in his own palace is an impossibility. Virgil brushes some of his purpley locks from his eyes and then looks to Roman with an exasperated expression. 

“Where’s the fire, Princey? I’m trying to do my job here,” 

Roman grins brightly, making Virgil wince inside at the purity of the smile. It’s annoying, and perhaps even more annoying, endearing. The prince presents Virgil with a letter, sealed with Roman’s own fancy crest. Virgil raises his eyebrow. 

“Come on now, open it up,” Roman pushes excitedly. He’d spent a while on this, and didn’t want it to go to waste. Though as Roman looks at Virgil’s little half-smile, he can’t help but feel as though it was all worthwhile. Virgil carefully opens the envelope, his anxiety only minorly dampered by Roman’s cheerful expression. 

After all, the anxious feelings that had originated from his youth have done nothing but grow stronger as he grows older. But Roman’s always so  _ blatant  _ and  _ clear _ with his intentions that it wanes slightly in his presence. And he doesn’t care about how he looks or how he chooses to look (the kohl being largely unpopular with the head maid), so there’s yet another plus to continue allowing Roman to entertain him. 

‘Allow’? Bullshit. Who is he kidding? Roman will do whatever he wants. Virgil scans over the letter. At this point, his brain and eyes have developed a ‘Princey Filter’ to directly filtrate the typical Roman nonsense (the thous and thees, little rhymes, musicality and such) and dive in for the direct meaning. Overall, this seems to be an eloquently written informal command to meet the prince himself at a particular balcony overlooking the gardens. Roman pushes down the paper to meet Virgil’s eyes. 

“So? What do you think?” 

“I think… that you’re absolutely insane to write me a letter about asking to meet in the middle of night at a random balcony,” Virgil says. Roman looks horribly dejected and it makes Virgil feel terribly guilty, so he continues with “When you could have just asked me in person?” 

Agh, someone turn off the sun that Roman has somehow managed to ensnare in his mouth. It’s too fucking bright. Virgil doesn’t have to lament for long, because Roman wraps him in a hug that Virgil takes a few moments to return. Virgil attempts to be discreet about the small sniff that he takes of Roman’s neck. I mean… he gets to use royal soaps. And he has a bath every day. So he always smells  _ fucking  _ fantastic. Roman, blessedly, doesn’t seem to notice and just excitedly lifts him up and spins him. 

“OI! Princey, put me down this instant! I AM NOT A DAMSEL!” Virgil shrieks. Virgil is relatively light for his size, skinny as a result of childhood malnourishment, and Roman is muscular and tanned. It’s no contest. 

“I mean, you’re still my Juliet! We’re even going to go to a balcony!” Roman laughs, and sets him down. Virgil doesn’t even notice that he’s smiling until he readjusts his hood. Instantly, he erases it from his face. 

“Well, I don’t have a dress to wear, oh well,” Virgil grumbles. Roman gives him a shrewd smile, alluding to knowing something that he most definitely doesn’t. Cue the pangs of anxiety. Virgil sets off to finish the original job of returning to the head maid with a meek wave to Roman. 

“Oh, and Virgil~,” Roman says, a silky undertone Virgil didn’t know was possible for someone so incorrigible as the creative prince to produce, “Don’t wear the hood. I like your hair,” Roman steps up behind him and pulls it down. 

Virgil sighs.  _ This again,  _ he thinks. 

“Princey, I told you already. If there’s even a shred of a chance of someone seeing it, I could be out of a job,” 

Roman knows the negative results of that now. 

“But hey, Sunshine, it’ll be just you and me. If you follow the instructions in the letter, you won’t even run into the night staff!” 

Virgil runs a hand through his overgrown locks and remains mute as he puts the hood back on. 

He continues to walk away. 

“What’s the problem with your hair anyway?” Roman calls out. It’s angry, and makes Virgil’s body spark with trepidation.  _ Friend, or secrets?  _

“You really wanna know?” 

Roman nods. 

“Well, it’s not just the hair. It’s the hair, and the eyes, and the skin, and the traits, and the teeth, and-” Virgil’s heart is palpitating, and a familiar dizzy fear gnashes its jaw in his chest. Old memories resurface adorned cruel grins and too-long hands claw out to choke him.  _ No no no, not now- _ His head is swirling with thoughts and nerves and it’s just going on and on forever and ever and  _ ever _

Roman catches him as he falls to the floor. His face is blurry to Virgil. 

“Hey! Hey, Virgil! What’s happening? How can I help you?” Roman sounds panicked. 

Virgil tries to speak, but it gets all jumbled up and shredded in his throat. Roman hefts him into his arms and starts running down the hall, turning and going up stairs with purpose in his set jaw.  _ Where are we going? He’s probably throwing me out. He doesn’t want damaged goods, you’re damaged, damaged damaged damaged _

“Virgil, hey, focus on me, I’m going to take you to Teach, he’ll know what to do, don’t worry, I’ve got you-” Roman rambles, holding Virgil close to his firm chest. He just wants to make sure Virgil stays with him. The pale man looks so frail- he shivers in Roman’s hold, and god knows that Virgil doesn’t take to relying on people easily. 

Roman blasts a door open, Virgil not even registering the paths he had taken. 

“Logan! Logan, somethings wrong with Virgil! I think he may be poisoned or something!” Roman cries out, the purple package in his arms looking less like a person and more like a lump of clothes. 

“I doubt that. Set him here, let me see,” Logan’s voice shows no worry: only calm, resolute in his knowledge. Virgil curls up in the chair, putting his head between his knees and shakes. 

Logan takes one look at him, adjusting his glasses on his nose, and comes to a conclusion. 

“Virgil, I’m going to need you to name five things you can see,” Logan says firmly, kneeling down so that he can be level with him. 

“Ican’tIcan’tIcan’t I can’t do  _ anything _ ,” Virgil sobs. Roman audibly swallows, frightened by how badly Virgil is affected by this. 

“Virgil, please. Five things,” Logan remains resolute. 

“Gl-Glasses. Shoes? Roman’s lett-tter. Wood floor. Wind...Window,” Virgil stutters out, slowly but surely. Roman sees that his shoulders are still shaking but not as horribly so, and feels as though he can finally breathe again. 

“Good. Now four things you can feel,” 

“My h-hood. Uhh, the parchment of the letter. Tears, on my face. Scratchy uniform,” 

“Three things you can hear,” 

“Your voice. My… my voice. Roman’s nervous shuffling,” 

“HEY!” Roman protests, then receives matching glares from Virgil and Logan both and shuts up. He takes the reaction from Virgil as a win though. 

“Very good, Virgil. Now, two things you can smell.” 

“Books. Roman’s girly perfume,” Virgil’s voice doesn’t sound nearly as shaky or nervous. It is obvious that Logan knows what he’s talking about. 

“Again, rude,” Roman whispers, his shuffling increasing.  _ It’s not girly! It’s sexy!  _ He thinks to himself. 

“Perfect. Alright, last one: one thing you can taste,” 

“Blood, from biting my tongue,” Virgil answers honestly. Roman feels a bit sick at that, but sits by Virgil’s side anyway. It’s an unconscious movement to place his hand on Virgil's back and rub it gently. Virgil closes his eyes and hums happily. 

“You okay? What was that?” Roman asks worriedly. 

“I’m fine now. It was nothing,” Virgil smiles at Roman, just barely. It makes Roman blush, and want to avoid the subject. Logan sighs.

“It was an anxiety attack, an extremely heightened one at that. There is a realm of possibility that it could be slotted under the category of panic attack. From his reaction, I can deduce that this is a common occurrence. There are some questions I’d like to ask,” Logan deliberates. Virgil shakes his head vigorously, and Roman glares at Logan. 

“He doesn’t have to answer anything if he doesn’t want to! Let’s go, Virge,” Roman attempts to pull Virgil away, but he remains firmly seated in the chair. “What are you doing?”

“I’m… I'm going to stay and talk to Logan for a minute. I’ve… I’ve never had any help with this before. Usually the other staff members who saw would just sit me outside to wear myself out or ignore it, so…” Virgil mumbles. He really doesn’t want to hurt Roman’s feelings, and understands that he’s… attached… but this is more important than his petty feelings right now. And if he’s going allowing Roman to coerce him into a balcony scene, he should understand that it’s not anything against him. 

“Can’t you just talk to me instead?” Roman asks confusedly. His brown eyes have never looked more puzzled, a heartbreaking undertone of hurt lying beneath them. 

“With all due respect, your majesty, I believe I am more educated in mental health practices than you are. At this moment, at least. If you wish to know more on the matter, I can add it to your future lessons,” Logan intervenes logically. 

“Well, is that what's wrong with Virgil? He has mental health issues?” Romans hand moves to grip Virgil’s in his lap. Virgil knows better than to deny a king something he wants, so he leaves it be, even as he shrinks in his chair and hides beneath his hood. 

“See, your majesty, this only exemplifies my point. There is nothing ‘wrong’ with Virgil. This is a completely natural and normal thing. Many people have mental health complications, in fact, more people are with them than without. For example, even Patton retains something similar to Virgil here, though with proper care and acknowledgement you rarely see it. It is not something that you have to find a ‘cure’ for, or go on a quest to rescue your friend from. It is part of who he is. And with the knowledge now that Virgil hasn’t received  _ any _ sort of treatment or  _ proper  _ education about this, which is infuriating by the way, it is absolutely vital that I talk to him about this,” 

“I trust you, Logan. V, you gonna be okay with Pocket Protector over here?” Virgil nods gratefully, which makes Roman smile. 

“Is this one of the nicknames you and Patton make up behind my back?” Logan notes drily. 

“Yes, why yes it is. I’ll see you later, Purp Man,” Roman winks at Virgil as he walks out, which makes Virgil cringe hard. Before he can get totally out of the door, Roman pops his head back in. “ALSO! Check your room before you come see me… it’s 243, right? Eh, whatever, Pat’ll page me. See you then! Yeah! Bye!” 

Roman trips on the stairs on his way out, not watching where he was going and rather looking at Virgil. 

_ So much for the graceful strong king,  _ Virgil snorts aloud at his snarky thoughts. 

Finally, Virgil takes a look around. This Logan character isn’t warm, quite cold actually: nearly robotic in his movements. As if he does things in a purposefully efficient way. He’s tall, with slender hands and eyes hidden by rectangular glasses, his hair dark enough that it looks almost black. Apparently, the royal advisor’s chosen place for study is a tall structure that overlooks the forests beyond, like a stereotypical wizard’s tower. 

“I chose this place because it is much quieter than the rest of the palace. Practically no one comes here, with the exception of those who outrank me like his majesty and those with explicit permission to do so such as Pa- the head of the house. No cleaning staff, the people who bring food drop it at the bottom of the tower,” Logan rests his chin on a hand, staring out the window at the nature beyond. “I believe that the quiet makes coherent thought much easier, don’t you? When it’s not stifling, but calm?” 

“Yeah… yeah, it’s really nice. Pretty peaceful,” Virgil responds uneasily.  _ What is this guy getting at?  _ Virgil’s suspicious, and won’t let this out of nowhere conversation get away from him.  _ Everybody’s got an angle.  _

“Would you say that… this environment is one that you would consider to be consolidating and generally adequate?” Logan remarks. 

“Uh… yeah?” Virgil answers confusedly. 

“Satisfactory. I will have to transferred from general workforce to be my assistant as soon as possible,” 

“Wha-? Are you sure? I have like… no experience with what you are doing here,” 

“I will teach you. It is practically factual that teaching others is beneficial to learning new information. I have learned much from instructing Roman throughout the duration of his life. And I believe that we have similar ideals on how to operate. This will be most suitable,” Logan assures Virgil, in his own way. 

“I mean, I guess so… you aren’t going to grill me ‘bout my attack or anything?” Virgil asks, as this is where he had seen this conversation going. Logan pushes his glasses back and walks to a nearby bookshelf. Virgil follows him. 

“There is very little gained from intensive aggressive scrutiny in a situation like this. I will remain patient until you wish to tell me, if ever. If you take care of it in a healthy fashion and do not harm yourself in the process, it is none of my business. Though other patients with a similar condition to yours state that telling trusted family and friends can alleviate the burden they feel,” Logan explains, pulling one of the books from the shelf and handing it to Virgil to hold. Two more books follow it soon after. “If you wish to learn more on the subject, as it seems you have never had the benefit to learning about it, you may read these.” 

“Um… sir,” 

“You may call me by name. It is more efficient that way, at any rate,” Logan turns to stare at Virgil. He’s extremely uncomfortable. Logan seems to deduce the reason with superior detective skills in moments. “You’re illiterate, aren’t you?” 

“Pfft, no!” 

“Partially blind, then?” 

“NO!”   


“Well, then what is it? I grow impatient,” Logan knows he’s playing with Virgil, and has that look on his face of a predator playing with his food. 

“It’s just… I share a room with some maids. There was no room in the valet’s when I moved here, so I’m with the girls. None of us really care though: purely platonic, and all that. Either way, there's simply not enough room to put the books there!” 

“Since you are my assistant now, even better situated by the knowledge of your literacy, you will be moved to a small private room. It will prove to be simply more suitable for your current workplace, as this location is far away from the quarters and I may need assistance at any time of night or day. And in fact, you already know where it is,” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“It’s the same room as listed on the letter Roman gave you,” Logan smirks, having cleverly enacted his portion of the plan made a few hours prior with no problems whatsoever. 

“HEY! You tricked me! You’re working with Roman, aren’t you!” 

“Well, I am the royal advisor. You knew that from the start,” Logan says drily. Virgil gapes, then quickly closes his mouth and scoffs. 

“Very sly, Logan,” Virgil appreciates. Logan hmms. 

“If you would, I believe in order to be in a more than suitable condition to meet Roman you still have till sunset, correct?” 

“Affirmative, Teach,” 

Logan sighs, knowing full well that he will have to now deal with Patton, Roman and now Virgil’s quips upon him, and then instructs Virgil to a nearby supply closet so he can start to clean. 

**At sunset…**

Virgil is worn out from working, but more fulfilled from it than he’d ever been. Virgil and Logan click in a way different from others. It’s like… they both have the same realistic yet bleak understanding of reality. Though Virgil’s understanding is based on fear for the most part and Logan’s knowledge it’s very comforting nonetheless. 

And, after a little while, Logan began to open up to Virgil for a brief moment. And it was clear that… though Logan wishes he was a perfect machine or book, he still has emotions. Emotions for his coworker, Patton?

Virgil says yes. The way his eyes light up- the animated retelling of a story they’d done together. It can’t be this obvious to just Virgil, right? Either way, Roman had asked to meet on that balcony (which is his new room, presumably) in a few hours or so. That gives him enough time for a nap, because he’ll need it for Roman shenanigans, and to redo his makeup. He steps into the room quietly, only to be immediately jumped by about five maids. 

“Hey, V~ this came for you~~,” one of the maid croons, holding up a dress bag. 

“There’s a note on it, and it’s really cute~,”

“Why didn’t you tell us you had a rich admirer? I bet it’s one of the visiting dukes, huh~” 

“You’re so luckyyy~” 

“Can I just see the note? And then nap? Please?” Virgil growls, hiding his blush at the attention of these blatant  _ fangirls _ fawning over him with his hood. One of the giggling maids hands him a note, fancy parchment and a red ribbon on it. Inside it reads ‘ _ Hey there, sunshine ;). Wear this later, yeah? Made it just for you <3’  _ Accompanying it is a single beautiful purple rose. One of the ones he likes. 

Virgil sticks out his tongue and makes an ‘ick’ sound. The maids gush and coo over it. 

“Alright, no need to make a stupid fuss over all this. He’s just being annoying,” Virgil groans. The maids squeeze him in a hug, still enthusing about the stupid fancy  _ slightly adorable  _ note. “Stop touching me!” Virgil demands, “And let me see what over active imagination is gonna dress me up in.” 

The maids excitedly titter around him, much to Virgil chagrin, as he unveils a frankly gorgeous purple dress. 

To describe this dress… it seems as though it will fit Virgil’s form perfectly, accentuating his slightly feminine form but not mocking it. It has a sort of off-the-shoulder neckline, thin gauzy black fabric falling from each shoulder… the length of the dress itself is long enough to cover his feet completely and train behind him for a few inches. It’s a muted regal purple that’s so… so… Virgil. Roman’s all vibrants and things that scream ‘LOOK AT ME’, and this dress can tell anyone with eyes that he understands Virgil’s tastes. The fact that it covers a lot of skin that he’s not too comfortable about flaunting (arms, stomach, legs) is brilliant and kind. 

Virgil wants to hate it, and throw it aside. 

He can’t do it. 

He loves this dress. It’s absolutely perfect. 

_ SHIT.  _

He wants to put it on. He wants to put it on so bad. 

“Well, sweetheart, are you going to show us how you look in it or what?” One of the maids giggles. Virgil narrows his eyes, but backs up to go into a nearby bathroom to put it on. 

It fits like a glove… the realization that Roman would have had his measurements makes him feel nervous though.  _ Did he come in when I was sleeping?  _ The image of Roman hovering over his bed with a measuring ribbon is kind of hysterical though: Roman with his fingers tapping together in an evil sort of way is so ridiculous that Virgil snorts. Anyway, the staff had known his measurements to get a uniform, so the super spy Roman he’d been envisioning isn’t probably true. Though… this kind of fancy garment must have taken days to make, and it doesn’t look like something that was bought and adjusted. More like it was  _ made  _ for him. Which would have taken weeks, at the very least.  _ How long has Roman had this?  _

Virgil does an experimental twirl in the mirror. The dress looks fantastic. Virgil still looks like the same nervous wreck he’s always been. 

He comes back into the room with all the nurses, looking visibly dejected. 

“Oh, it looks so good on you!”

“Man, I wish I could pull off purple,” 

“Lucky guy who gets to see you like that,” 

Just as Virgil turns away to the door, away from the attention, the door is kicked open by the head of the house himself, Patton. Virgil always liked Patton: very parental and kind. He didn’t push why Virgil had transferred so quickly, kicked to the curb like garbage from his previous place of work. 

“I HEARD THERE WAS A MAKEOVER GOING ON IN HERE!” He cheers, the maids cheering alongside him. He notices Virgil’s uncomfortable demeanor instantly. “What’s wrong, my dark strange son?” 

“It’s just… I’m not pretty. I’m not pretty like this dress,” Virgil whispers, pulling at the sleeves. 

“Well, that’s just because we haven’t done your hair and makeup yet. Give it a moment,” he laughs, the rest of the girls chorusing together in ‘makeover!’ 

“You guys know I’m moving out tomorrow, right?” 

“That’s why we need to make this the best you’ve ever looked, so you come crawling back to visit us! Loganberry’s a total sweetheart, but we’re  _ maid  _ to last!” 

The dad joke breaks Virgil, and he snorts in laughter. 

“Fine fine, do your worst, I give in,” Virgil groans, pretending poorly to be upset about the whole ordeal. He’s pushed into a chair as maids flock with their own collection of makeup materials. “HEY! I want my look to stay at least primarily the same! None of your prissy princess pinks or any of that shit!” 

They agree readily, and then pounce like wolves. 

~~~~~ 

Roman was too excited. So excited, that he left early, sneaking from his room by climbing out the window to come to the balcony. 

If everything’s gone according to plan, Virgil will now be in the room he’s pacing outside of soon and as long as he works at the palace. He’s going to have everything he could ever need, or want. The pay of Logan’s personal assistant is the highest paying job for Virgil’s level… promoting him to the same place as Patton or Logan would be ludicrously bad in the eyes of neighboring nations, especially since they could all see that he was not qualified in the least for the position in anything but the favor of the king. Virgil will work off this debt of his ten times faster than he would as a simple maid either way. 

And… Roman will always be able to visit him now. Whereas before the idea of barging into the communal servant area would be unheard of, knocking on a friend’s private quarters is completely acceptable. 

Roman is pacing the grass, so deep in thought, that he doesn’t recognize when Virgil shows up on the balcony until he clears his throat. 

“Aha, dearest Juliet-” Roman chuckles, turning to look at Virgil, before his next words shrivel on his tongue in shock. 

If before, Virgil was beautiful in terms of his otherworldly aura, he is now so incredibly gorgeous it makes Roman’s heart beat as loud as a gong and his mouth practically salvate. Virgil… Virgil looks like the most dazzling thing Roman has ever seen in his whole life. 

Patton did too well with the hair and makeup, and Virgil’s eyes strike right into Roman’s chest. They have the same dark shadows around them, though they are painted into wings with glittering purple shades immersed in it. His lips are painted barely, not too red and not too dark, but just enough. His nails were black, as he brings it to his mouth to cover it nervously. There’s a familiar purple rose tucked behind his ear. 

And the dress… o h m y g o d. It was more than perfect. Roman had had it made on a whim ages ago, thinking it to be a creative way to express the friend of his in a new way. Now, he might command Virgil to never take it off. The words Roman was going to croon, the edited version of the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet, are all jumbled in his mind. 

_ There Virgil goes again, ruining all my best laid plans. Damn him, and his prettiness.  _

“Do I… do I not look okay?” Virgil peeps up from the balcony. Roman’s head shoots up, flushed and thankful for the darkness that makes it hard to see. 

“Do you… Virgil,  _ honey _ , you look fucking gorgeous!” Roman nearly shouts, Virgil looking shy now and ducking his head. 

“Mhmm, thanks, I guess. I really like it,” 

“Yeah, yeah, me too.” 

There's a moment of silence. Then, Roman recalls what he’s supposed to be doing: a teasing wooing. Right? It’s not genuine. The lines are all blurring at this point. 

“Wait, Virgil, can you enter again? I missed my cue, being distracted and all,” Roman flashes a smile. 

Virgil raises his eyebrow. 

“Please? For me?” 

“Fine, give me a minute,” Virgil teases Roman, turning back inside and then coming back outside. Finally in his ideal environment, the spotlight, Roman slips into his role like a fish into water. 

“But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun,” Roman speaks, reciting the Shakespearean words with ease and practice. 

“Oh, you’ve  _ got _ to be kidding me,” Virgil snorts, blushing. 

“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, what thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green and none but fools do wear it; cast it off,” Roman winks and continues, lifting his hand up to gesture up at Virgil who smirks. 

“Is this honestly why you had me dress up?” 

“It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it,” Roman makes a big show of stepping forwards, then back to the shadows. Virgil has stopped trying to halt the tirade of poetry and now rests his arm on the railing of the balcony elegantly. “I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return,” 

“I mean… the stars are beautiful from here,” Virgil notes, looking up at the shining orbs in the sky. Roman swallows for a moment: he looks completely calm, for the first time in the entirety Roman’s known him. It makes the prince feel… happy. 

“What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!” 

Virgil slowly realizes that that is a cue, and does it. The image is striking. Roman swallows the nameless emotion deep down inside of him and continues on. 

“O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!” Roman pours all of the right feeling into that, and revels in the faint pink dusting Virgil’s cheek. 

“Jeez Princey, easy on the romance, would you? I’m getting the feeling that you’re trying to hit me up when you talk like that,” 

“She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head as is a winged messenger of heaven, unto the white-upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him, when he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air,” Roman recites for his Juliet. 

He gets through the whole scene like that. Though Virgil doesn’t say the right lines, rather dry comments and playful insults instead, it is still perfection. Roman walks away from the interaction more joyous than he could ever imagine being. Though he is rejected in mock harshness at the end, it doesn’t matter to him. That’s just part of Virgil’s charm, after all. A new feeling bubbles in his heart, prompting Roman to dance through the hidden path between some garden hedges to return to his room. 

_ What is this feeling?  _

_ What is it? _

_ Wait a second.  _

_ Am I… in love with Virgil?  _

Roman freezes in his tracts, his face contorting with the realization that yes, he is in love with the resident emo. Does he tell him? No, it would frighten him away. It would be the worse torture imaginable to Virgil to ask for a transfer because he didn’t want to be with Roman. Just thinking of what he’s been saying recently, things like ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ even when he is presented with grand gifts… no, it’s best not to tell him. 

Roman’s okay with that. 

Really. 

Instead of thinking of Virgil’s inevitable rejections of Roman’s innocent crush, he savours the image of Virgil in that dress. Because…  _ damn. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments questions concerns!


	4. IV

The next five months pass by with a happy establishment of a new normal. Virgil works side by side with Logan: they’ve grown to learn each other’s mannerisms and characteristics, tells and wants. It’s truly a perfect working relationship. Virgil is clever and a fast learner, and can deal with Logan’s one-time intensive instructions. He’ll clean whenever Logan spontaneously passes out, which happens more often than not: the advisor constantly forgets to indulge in bodily functions if he’s really focused unless Virge reminds him. Or Roman, or Patton for that matter. 

Virgil now considers the three other men his closest, and only, friends. Seeing as he once had next to none, he is quite content with the development. And he gets to watch Patton and Logan dance around each other like fools, so there is always entertainment. If Virgil ever gets bored, he asks Logan a question like, “Hmm, I wonder what Patton’s doing?” or something like “Patton seemed to really like your plans to reform that village”, and then Logan’s face lights up in red as he asks “You really think so?”. All in all, Virgil’s having too much fun. Everything that he never wants to remember is set firmly aside from his new life. 

As the day is done, Virgil heads back to his room. He sets his hooded cape aside on a hook. Roman had wanted the garment to go away, but Virgil insisted on keeping some sort of head covering. So, Roman had this beautiful black and purple patched cloak made, hood and all, so that Virgil will not only keep hidden but look as someone of his caliber should. It makes Virgil feel important and valued… perhaps that’s why he loves it so much. 

There’s a loud knock on the door. Virgil instantly composes his features into a regulated disinterested expression before opening the door and greeting Roman, who falls to one knee whilst presenting a beautiful dahlia to him. 

“Dearest Juliet-” 

“Princey, I  _ told _ you not to call me that,” Virgil rolls his eyes, scoffing but leaning on the doorframe all the same. 

“Would you do me, a humble prince, the honor of accompanying me to the ball tomorrow night?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Virgil asks an honest question. 

“Well, I mean, I already had another dress made and everything…”

“Alright fine,” Virgil answers quickly. Roman’s affections has gotten him greedy for those pretty dresses, and he knows it. 

“I’ll have it delivered later, yeah? And how about… how about we do each other’s make up? You can come over to my little makeup salon before… I-I have a bunch of stuff you might like…?” Roman questions carefully, nervous all of a sudden. The prince walks up closer, and tucks the dahlia behind Virgil’s ear. 

“Pfft, what are you getting all nervous about? Sure, why not, you’re not trying to kidnap me,” Virgil teases, poking at Roman’s chest.  _ Oh shit, that’s muscle. Daaamn.  _

“Yeah! So, Logan probably won’t have much work for you, so just come to my quarters right after. Is that alright with you?” 

“You’re asking for permission now? That’s new… you’re the king, you can just  _ tell _ me what you want me to do, Musical Machine!” Virgil laughs. It tapers off when Roman doesn’t laugh with him, instead blushing and rubbing his neck. 

“Yeah, I know… but I want it to be something  _ you _ want to do. A choice. Something you want to do not as… as a servant… but as, and I’m just spitballing here, as a friend?” Roman treats each word like he’s stepping on eggshells. Virgil simply rolls his eyes. 

“Trust me, I would  _ not _ be hanging about with you if I didn’t consider you to be one level of a relationship above ‘Master/Servant’,” Virgil belittle’s Roman nerves. 

“Ick, don’t say it like that. Makes it sound like a sex thing,” Roman shivers. 

“Do you  _ want  _ it to be a sex thing? Oh, what a dirty mind, Princey!” 

“NO! No, that’s more my brothers thing, him and his sex jokes every single meeting must be messing with my mind. Either way, tomorrow?” 

“If nothing comes up,” Virgil shrugs nonchalantly. 

They both know that the most exciting thing Virgil has to look forward to are these meetings… nothing’s gonna come up. 

~~~~~~

Logan notices right away that Virgil is waiting for something. He is not blind, nor is his stupid: Virgil’s mannerisms hint strongly at a distraction weighing heavily on his mind. Of course, he recalls several different exercises that are bound to rein in Virgil’s focus but… if it is about what Logan believes it’s about… he best leave it be. So instead, he sighs, adjusts his glasses, and reorganizes the book that Virgil just put back incorrectly into its rightful positioning. 

“Fuck… did I put that in the wrong place? Shit, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” Virgil apologizes, tugging on his cloak worriedly. He’s currently sweeping up some shards of glass that had shattered a little while ago because it had slipped through his fingers. It was a narrow avoidance of an anxiety attack, and in that way Logan acknowledges that reprimanding him at this point will prove insufficient for any of his goals for the day. 

“It is adequate. I have no further use of you for today, as I must oversee preparations for the incoming reestablishment of the trade agreements,” 

“Oh, I haven’t heard of that! Should I prepare some paperwork or something? Who’s the agreement with?” Virgil questions, inquisitive. Logan looks to the young man, preparing to gauge his reaction. 

“The trade agreement with the Eastern Kingdom has reached the end of it’s five year duration. We must draft and solidify a new one. Since the last set provided a positive efficiency and increased prosperity, it will most likely be reset in a similar fashion. You are not needed to assist,” Logan states, his eyes drinking in Virgil’s reaction. It is muted, but in a way that Logan can analyze Virgil’s small tells. Unlike most people, when Virgil is stressed or worried about something… instead of biting his nails and flinching he instead goes stony. No reaction, when there is something to hide. An interesting conundrum: it’s a way to protect himself… because he has more to hide. More than an average person who would feel frightened in a moment of scrutiny, Virgil is frightened when there is none. It is certainly… not preferable to acknowledge that this is most likely from a tumtulous childhood full of dread and constant fear. 

Though… Logan has come to the conclusion that the time in this castle and the comfortable closeness that he enjoys is aiding him in the effort to erase that past. 

But Virgil’s emotionless “That would be in the best interest of the kingdom, wouldn’t it?” hints at something much larger. Logan will have to do more research, perhaps converse with Patton, before coming up with any rash presumptions (though his detective mind whirls with possibilities already).

“Yes, it will be… frustrating, to work with Janus and Remus, but overall it is invaluable. You are dismissed for the day, Virgil,” Logan reminds him, watching as Virgil heads to the door. “Have fun with his majesty,” he guesses. 

“Oh, thanks… wait a second I didn’t say anything! You smart bastard!” Virgil gasps. 

“I pride myself on my deductive reasoning. Now, leave me,” Logan chuckles, returning to his books. Virgil hums, pulls up his hood, and disappears down the long staircase. 

~~~~~

Logan had the good sense to send a maid in warning that Virgil was on his way. Roman was still lounging around, the city hall having been canceled in favor of the ball. Roman was very very very excited: after all, he  _ thrived _ at these balls. And… throwing all caution aside, he’d asked Virgil to go with him! And he had said yes… that thought within itself is why he’s been unable to focus on something as simple as preparing the different makeups and paints and brushes. He wants Virgil to be the most beautiful person at the ball (he can’t imagine that it would be hard, he already has such a wonderful frame), and for that he has pulled out all the stops. 

Virgil’s dress has been delivered… it has a new neckline, an illusion one, that will accent his slim shoulders nicely. He had the length changed, so that it is longer in the back and shorter in the front. There’s also a low back, low enough to be ending just above his buttocks. With a black bodice of lace and the same plum colour as before… Roman can’t help but smile dreamily. 

“Hey, Princey, are you ready?” 

“I’ve been ready for hours, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance,” 

“Aww, romance? I should have known,” Virgil laughs, the banter flowing easily between them. Roman gestures for Virgil to sit by his expansive vanity, which is neatly organised by shade and type. 

“Well, you can’t spell Romance without Roman,” the prince chuckles, dragging over another chair from the sitting room to sit next to him. 

“Hmm, clever. Did it take you all day to think of that?”

“But of course! I spend hours each day thinking about you… I mean, who else is as fun to ridicule?” Roman laughs.  _ Nice save, idiot.  _ Virgil seems not to notice, instead looting the many drawers of cosmetics and pulling things he likes out of them. Roman assists, putting back anything that he doesn’t think will suit him. 

The next two hours of Roman’s life are spent applying makeup to Virgil’s face... and it’s better than he could have ever imagined. The purple eyeshadow that fades into black… the black shadows that circle his eyes… the dark tinted lips… the intensified eyelashes… the blush exemplifying his cheekbones… Roman even puts a silver cuff on the shell of his ear. He makes a chef’s kiss. 

“My masterpiece,” Roman praises. Virgil investigates his work in the mirror.

“I gotta say Princey, you’re not completely useless,” 

“I try! Do you want to see your dress?” 

“You really made me a new one?” 

“But of course!” Roman smiles brightly. Virgil attempts to smile back, only managing a tiny little twitch of lips. 

“I honestly thought you were just making fun of me,” Virgil sighs, accepting Roman’s outstretched hand to lift him up. Roman looks at him incredulously.

“Why… I wouldn’t do that to you. And anyway, seeing you happy is reward enough,” Roman gives another blinding smile, so much so that Virgil gives up on trying to find a price tag to the charity that is being given. Virgil knows more than anyone that nothing comes for free. The prince drags him to the expansive dressing room, that smells so much like  _ Roman _ it’s almost overwhelming. 

But either way… Virgil loves the dress. Another point for Roman: his fashion taste, his predictions for what Virgil will like… impeccable. Virgil walks around the mannequin it hangs on, investigating zippers and buttons and the finer details, before glancing at Roman. 

“You gonna leave so I can put this on, or just oogle me forever perv?” Virgil deadpans. 

“Was that an option?” 

“NO!” 

“Alright then, my spectacular sulk, I will go and get on my costume! You let me know if you need anything?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Virgil waves Roman off, feeling the fabric between two forefingers. Roman closes the door behind him, and practically skips to his bedroom.  _ Virgil is in my quarters! He is happy! He is happy because of the gifts I gave him! He is happy because of me!  _

He needs to keep it in. Because if his twin takes wind of his attraction towards the little emo… both his and Virgil’s happy little life they have here will surely be changed. By something crazy, something demented, something 100% Remus. Either way, he calls in some maids to help him dress. His velvety red corset with the gold linings will go over his white shirt with the pillowy sleeves, an interesting new combination of his regular attire. He only has his pants on when Virgil bursts into the room. 

“Hey, Princey I- oh,” Virgil stops in his tracks, his dress on but not tied correctly. Though part of Roman is mortified, the other, more romantic and headstrong part says ‘ _ This is my chance! Woo powers, go!’  _ Roman isn’t stupid: he works out! Gotta keep that heroic shape! So he understands that he has a body most people would consider to be quite attractive. Muscular… toned… and he knows it. 

So Roman promptly shoos away the maids (who titter excitedly at this picturesque scene) and stretches both arms above his head. 

“Hey, Virgil… what seems to be the matter?” Roman asks, with an air of nonchalant. Virgil is so red.  _ Haha, yes. My plan is working!!  _

“I… uh, can’t do the strings in the back,” Virgil stutters out, still drinking him in. 

“Here, I can do it,” Roman smiles, walking closer to him purposefully. 

“Ah, no that’s okay, I’ll ask one of those maids to do it- heh,” 

“I already sent them away though… I’ll feel bad if I forced them back in so soon. I’ll just do it myself. Don’t worry, I’m pretty capable,” Roman chuckles, running a hand through his hair to smooth it back out of his eyes. 

“Yeah, no shit,” Virgil says under his breath, thinking to himself that this is why Roman’s able to lift him so effortlessly. Roman makes quick work of the straps in the back. 

“Now, do a spin so I can see how it looks. Oh, and tell me how it fits!” 

Virgil obliges, a blush still very evident on his cheeks. 

“Erm… it fits really well. And comfortable, and all that. I really… like it,” Virgil says bashfully under Roman’s attentive gaze. Roman, seeing that the initial awkwardness of looking at his bare chest is turning into straight uncomfortableness, quickly dons and buttons up his dress shirt. 

“Good to hear! Since you’re here already, would you please help me with the corset? It’s the last piece I have, with the exception of my cape…” Roman grins, knowing that Virgil will have to get  _ pretty  _ close to be able to tie it up. “Nice and tight, please!” 

“Princey, you are seriously going to be the end of me,” Virgil groans. Roman hums happily, and braces himself against a wall. Virgil sighs again internally:  _ guess I’m doing this! Fixing Roman’s corset in his bedroom, while in a dress. What has the world come to.  _ Virgil is still barefoot, and plants his feet in the plush carpet of Romans bedroom as he takes the strings in his hands and pulls. 

“Virge, you can go tighter than that, can’t you?” 

“ _ Fucking gimme a second,”  _ Virgil hisses. Roman squirms. 

“Come on, you’re stronger than that!” Roman presses, stretching back into him. 

“ **_Shut up!_ ** ” Virgil straight up growls, a scary tenor to his voice. Roman’s brave heart is zapped with fear. The corset is pulled excruciatingly tight, tied, and then the pressure is gone. “ ** _Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I gotta go_** ,” Virgil gasps, then runs from the room before Roman can turn around and say it’s okay. Virgil is gone, and Roman’s mind whirls with possibilities and questions.  _ How did he get so strong all of a sudden? What was with his voice? Is he okay? Oh gosh, is he having an anxiety attack? Should I call Patton or Logan?  _

Roman clasps his cape to the epaulette at the top of each shoulder. Giving it a practiced flourish, Roman dashes out of the bedroom and notices Virgil immediately. It feels… dark. Scary. Something that Roman would more normally encounter questing out in the unknown then his own living quarters. It’s a thick darkness, a stifling gooiness to it that makes his skin crawl. 

“Virgil? Virgil, are you okay? Virgil, can you hear me?” 

“ **_Go away!_ ** _ I-I’ll be fine in a minute… just gimme some space,”  _ his voice still has those scary undertones, and every instinct in Roman’s body screams at him to turn away. But it’s  _ Virgil _ , and Virgil would never hurt him. Would he? No, never! Roman forces his legs to trudge forwards, the padded carpeted floor quieting his footsteps slightly. He presses up right to the closed door of the dressing room, where darkness oozes out of the bottom. 

“It’s okay, Virgil. You can show me anything. Anything, you know that? I promise, I’ll like you all the same,” that’s partially a lie: if Virgil turns out to be a dragon witch or something, he’ll have to vanquish him… but Roman would keep him anyway, after vanquishment. After Virgil doesn’t answer, Roman starts to force the door open. It’s not locked: only protected by the fact that the aura expelling from it makes one want to run in the other direction. 

Inside the dressing room, all is the same: despite the fact that there are dark shadows everywhere, of course. Virgil is very obviously hiding under a large pile of clothes in the corner of the closet. How he pulled all of those off the hangers in such record time, Roman has no idea, but there it is. 

“Hey, Virge… it’s me,” Roman says, then begins to stalk closer. 

“ **_Go away. I don’t want you to see this_ ** ,” his gravelly voice says from under the pile of clothes. 

“But I want to help!” 

“ ** _You can help me by leaving! It’ll only be_** **_a few minutes before I’m… I’m okay again_** ,” 

“Virgil… I don’t want to just see the okay you. I want to see it all,” Roman admits quietly, finally close enough to place a hand on where he thinks his back is. To his shock, there is something else there on his back. “What…” 

“ **_You really want to know? You really want to see how monstrous I really am?_ ** ” Virgil says angrily. Roman scoots back as Virgil emerges from the clothes pile. 

Virgil has four other arms sticking out of his back. Spider arms, purple spider arms dotted with black. 

He has two more sets of eyes. One pair, the larger ones, are near solid black with the only thing distinguishing them as eyes being the small purple dots in the center of them, and the fact that tears are threatening to spill over from them. Then smaller ones, of little round glimmering blackness, beneath his regular eyes Roman has seen each day. 

His teeth are hanging out over his lip just so. They’re too long, the fangs quivering in time to his lip. 

“ **_This is what you wanted. This is what you keep asking to see. And for what? So you can see that I’m a monster? I… I could just kill you, right now. I COULD KILL YOU, and you wouldn’t be able to stop me…”_ ** What started out as a harsh snarl ends in a sob, and Roman catches him as he slides to the floor crying. Roman simply holds him as Virgil cries, as the four spider limbs clutch his body in an unexpected hug. After he stops crying too hard, Roman voices his question. 

“Born, or cursed?” 

“ **_Cursed_ ** _ ,”  _ Virgil’s voice is slowly calming in time with the end of his anxiety attack. 

“Alright, alright. You don’t have to tell me now-” 

“ **No…** ahem, no. I want to,” Virgil clears his throat, erasing the scary tone. The room’s darkness fades, and the spider arms retract into his back again, the extra eyes closing and magically sinking back into his face. “I trust you, Princey, because no matter how idiotic you are, you’ve never… actively tried to hurt me. Heh,” Virgil pats Roman’s shoulder, and pushes out of his arms. Roman settles beside him instead, refusing to leave his side. 

“Why would I ever…” 

“Heh, good point. You’re too thick headed to have any sort of sense for your personal safety. Stupidity aside… there’s a whole story for how I ended up like this. It’s my parent’s fault, really. They… ha… they were the worst people. Large scale criminals: scamming people left and right. When I was born, it was like: bam! We have a new way to trick people! They’d leave me out until I cried, and then make up some sob story about how they lost me because they had no money or whatever. I hated it. And if I tried to escape or not do it… agh. So, so, so, much worse than lying to all of those people. My anxiety started up back then: until it became so all consuming it was who I was. Just constant… fear. That’s what I remember from back then. 

Then I grew older, and my parents realized,  _ oh shit, he can sneak into places we can’t _ ! I mean, imagine all those places a little kid could squeeze into! So I was sent on little ‘missions’, they called them, to bring back some dough for dear old dad and poor mum… or else. Because I had to earn my keep, they said. 

And then... one day they said I was ready to sneak into this witch’s hut. She had all kinds of bars and protections… against them. I could get in, if I pushed and squeezed and jumped. I had to do it all on my own, and for the very first time… freedom. But… my fucking anxiety and fucking fear kept me from running as far away as I could, because what if they catched me? That big what if. Like a fucking idiot, I did what they wanted. 

And when the witch caught me, because of course she did, and because my parents knowingly threw me in there well aware that the likelihood of me coming out was slim… she cursed me. Since I crawled in like a spider, she used this spell to make me an arachnoid beast. A fucking monster, that would scare anyone away from me. Literally, a face a mother could no longer love. My hair had this sheen to it, like the shiny shell of a spider, my eyes could no longer blend in with normal people as they glowed purple in the night. In reality, who would ever want to be by such danger? 

And when I crawled home, terrified and broken… you know what they said? You know what they  **fucking said** ? They said… They said that it was a blessing in disguise. That I could be the distraction, like a feral animal. I was aging out of being the cute innocent child anyhow: so I could play the part of grotesque monster. Who would do that? Who would say that to their only son?” Virgil’s hands are clenched in anger, so tight that they leave little red crescents in his palms. Roman puts a tentative hand on his knee, rubbing it in what he hopes is comforting. “I learned to control it, after a while. Ends up, that witch took pity on me: couldn’t not punish me, because I did sneak in, but I was able to confine it to only when I wanted. Or when I was too emotional not to break out. Then came the day my parents crimes finally caught up to them, thank fucking god… their days were always numbered. And I was convicted too: but since I was just a minor, I was put to work in the castle over there instead. My parents escaped, somehow, escaped their punishment: so guess who has to work for more than half of their life, to pay off their dues? Lucky me,” 

After ensuring the tirade of information has ended, Roman carefully pulls Virgil into a hug. 

“I wish you didn’t have to deal with all that, my little stormcloud. I really… wish you didn’t. But you’ll never have to do that again, alright? Never. I’ll protect you now,”

“Can you really protect me from myself?” 

“Hmm. I can certainly try. I’ll distract you with my overwhelming stupidity,” 

“Yeah, hah, you always do,” 

“I can distract you with pretty dresses,” 

“I do like those,” 

“And with grand parties,” 

“Don’t we have to get going for that? I don’t want to make you late…”

“And you don’t have to remember anything but the moment you’re currently in. The past will stay right there: behind you. But the present is a gift, isn’t it. And your gift happens to be Really Obviously Muscular And Nice,” Roman quirks an eyebrow as Virgil processes what he just said.

“Really Obviously Muscular And Nice… ROMAN. Oh my fucking god, you’re such an dork,” 

“But I’m a creative and spectacular and splendiferous dork,” Roman stands, presenting a hand to the dark child on the floor. Though his makeup’s run because of the past crying, he wears it well. Perhaps, like Virgil himself, the makeup being imperfect makes it all the more beautiful. 

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s go to that party, I got all prettied up. It would be a shame if I didn’t flaunt it to everyone,” Virgil gets up with the help of Roman’s hand. 

“Don’t you worry, Juliet, I can assure you that you are the most beautiful belle at the ball. I’ve never seen someone more beautiful,” Virgil looks up at Roman, frightened at the omission of could-it-be feelings, so Roman provides the punchline of “except that dashing fellow in the mirror, of course!”

“Naturally, you narcissist,” Virgil snorts, putting his arm in Roman’s hold just as a princess would to a prince. Roman smiles broadly, and guides him to the ballroom. Thankfully, it's nearby. Just before they enter the room though, and tell the footman who they are, and greet Patton and Logan and all the other guests (and inevitably have to face Remus and Deceit), Virgil pokes Roman’s sculpted face.

“Hey, Prince of Pests,” 

“Yes, Emo Nightmare?” 

“Thanks. For, you know. Staying,” Virgil looks like it’s taking a lot for him to say this: almost shy. It’s cute. 

“Really. It was the least I could do,”

“Nah, you’re always doing and saying nice stuff. I just like to tease and ridicule, it’s how I operate,” Virgil explains. Patton had called it personality, Logan a coping mechanism. “But… I just gotta say thanks? Whatever, it’s stupid.”

“No! However late, it’s much appreciated! Means a lot,” 

“Also… you really think I look pretty in this dress?” 

“Have you no eyes? Yes, you are gorgeous. Even more so in that outfit,”

“Wait a hot second what do you mean even more so?”

“Hush, we’re going in,” 

And with that (and Virgil’s rapid fire questions), Roman knocks on the door to open it and they enter the party. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments questions concerns!


	5. V

Roman winks at Virgil before telling the footman their names:

“Now presenting the marvelous King Roman of the Western Kingdom, accompanied by his Juliet,” the footman announces into a megaphone. The entire party turns to look at the staircase where the two men stand, and bow or curtsy in unison. Virgil blushes deeply and hides his head in Romans shoulder (especially when knowing that certain other kings might be in the audience), and Roman nods to his subjects and waves with a signature grin. 

“Why did we have to announce ourselves?” Virgil hisses angrily in Roman’s ear, letting the man lead him down the staircase into the bustling crowds nonetheless. 

“Haha, would you rather I tell everyone assembled your real name?” 

“No,” Virgil grumbles, “but I wish I didn’t have to show my face at these kinds of things,” 

“Ha, I had a feeling you’d say that. Here,” out of a previously unseen pocket, Roman produces a lacy black and purple masquerade mask and gives it to Virgil to wear. He slips it in his face and secured it with the back strap. “Better?” 

“Much. I do feel like a secret assassin now though,” Virgil nudges Roman, reminding him of the fateful day they met, which makes him smile. 

“I tell you what: I know you don’t like new people, especially since the majority of people are even more self absorbed than I am, so you go head to the food banquet over there. They’ve got some interesting fancy foods, and if history repeats itself, Patton’s probably by the desserts debating getting a second cookie whilst Logan encourages him to eat healthier,” 

“That seems painfully on brand,” Virgil laughs. Roman can’t help but smile softly at the cheerful sound. 

“See you soon, and find me if you need anything. Promise, you will?” Roman’s not looking at Virgil, rather at the royal who is waving him over, but the words still carry the same weight as they would if he was staring right at him. 

“Yeah yeah, don’t get your royal panties in a bunch. Sheesh, I’ll see you in a bit,” Virgil snorts, then promptly hides his head as he darts through the crowd to get to Logan and Patton. 

Sure enough, Patton is currently squealing at a pitch unimaginable over a large chocolate chip cookie, practically drooling over it. He wears a long grey suit jacket, long enough to end nearly knee-length, and some beige suspenders beneath with a light blue bow tie. Overall, very cute. Logan is just standing nearby, repeating “no”, his outfit seemingly no different than usual except for a blue vest and an enchanting dark blue cravat. 

“You’re looking at that cookie real hard, Pat,” Virgil snorts. Patton turns to Virgil excitedly, mouth open to say something when Logan cuts him off.

“Virgil, please tell Patton here that eating a second cookie is not advisable for proper calorie intake,” Logan begs, clearly done with Patton’s antics.

“Buuut,  _ Loganberry _ … it looks so delicious!! This will be my last one, I promise.  _ Pwease, for your Pattoncake _ ?” Patton pleads with Logan, making a baby face. Logan clears his throat, and adjusts his glasses as if that would erase his blush. 

“This is most inopportune. Patton, you are not a child. You are an adult in a very important line of work-“

“Lo, indulge in life a little bit! Pat, go right ahead on that second cookie. I insist,” Virgil leans against the wall, watching as Logan sighs deeply and Patton quickly shoves the cookie in his mouth. 

With a mouth full of cookie, Patton says, “Thwank youw Virilw!” 

Virgil masks a laugh under a hand, and picks up one of the cookies that Patton had been ogling. He goes to take one for himself, at the same time Patton attempts to feed Logan one.

“Oh, Patton, that is quite alright-“ 

“Come on, Loganberry, it’s delicious! Oh wait, let me get you a jam biscuit, you like those more!” And Patton picks up a jam biscuit and shoves it in Logan’s mouth, who closes his eyes in ecstasy. The man likes his jams, apparently. Virgil plucks the uneaten on from Patton’s hand and nibbles on it. It is actually a really good cookie. There’s a kind of bliss in this moment: the idea that Virgil doesn’t really have anything to worry about. 

Well. 

Anything except-

“Now presenting, the monarch of the Eastern Kingdom, King Remus, and his head advisor, Dec- Janus,” even the footman stumbles over Janus’s infamous nickname before saying his true title. Janus himself gives a little smirk to the crowd before a small bow of his head and flourish of his hand. He doesn’t care that all will see his half-face, famously painted to look like he is half snake. For that’s what he is: a two faced snake, able to convince you to eat poison and come back for more. His outfit is the one that he’s always worn, maybe a vest underneath being the only thing that has changed. 

And by his side… is Remus himself. He gives a wild grin and a bouncy bow, unable to stay still. His outfit is also mostly unchanged: perhaps just fancied up a bit and the addition of a partially broken crown on an slant angle upon his head. 

“Hiya everybody! Hope there’s still some bubbly left, yeah?” Remus cackles, pumping his fist in the air excitedly before bouncing into the crowd. Virgil is thankful for that mask. So so so thankful. He’s just starting to relax, indulging in the meaningless jabbering of Patton and Logan’s judging of the outfits and attendance of the ball, when someone taps his shoulder. Virgil whirls around, his punch narrowly avoided by Roman. 

“Princey! Don’t surprise me like that, fuck,” Virgil says as a way of apology.

“Dangity, Virge, you can throw a mean hook. Someday, we must wrestle!” 

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a no from me,” Virgil snorts, accepting Roman’s outstretched hand and knowingly allowing him to be led into the mass of dancing people. “Where are you taking me?” 

“Well, I couldn’t just introduce you as Juliet and then not dance with you, could I?” 

Virgil flushes and tries to pull away: it backfires, and Roman pulls him into his chest closer than before. 

“Come on, you must humor me. I’m your friend, aren’t I?” Roman whispers in his air, the hot breath on the curve of it making Virgil shiver. “Do you simply not know how to dance? Here, I’ll show you, it’s easy,” 

“I just… don’t want to be dancing in front of all of these people!” Virgil hisses, resisting slightly as Roman places a hand on his waist. 

“Hey, just focus on me! I mean, it must be hard not to, as the shining star of this event,” 

“Pfft. Yeah, sure,” Virgil rolls his eyes, but focuses on Roman’s mirthful expression. 

“Truly! I came into the party with such a mysterious beauty on my arm, who could look away?” 

“I’m sure you’ve brought many ladies and gentlemen to these sort of things over the years,”

“Yes, true, but none as fantastically ominous as you glowering at all the people,” 

“Hey, who do you think you are??” 

“Ehm, the king?”

“What’s that to me?” 

“Who else could trick you into dancing in the center of the party so eloquently?” Roman teases, and Virgil finally notices that he’s been waltzing, led by Roman’s expert hands and body, for the entirety of their banter. 

“Oh,” Virgil says simply, looking at how Roman holds up their left conjoined hands and spins him. “You know, this isn’t actually too bad.” The prince smiles widely, pulling him back in for another few steps. 

“Excuse me, but may I cut in?” his voice is serpent-like and so painfully familiar. Virgil knew he shouldn’t have let Roman take him away from Logan and Patton. 

“Ah, do I really want to hand my partner over to you, Janus?” Roman chuckles, completely unaware of Virgil’s shaking. Janus inclines his head, his half smile on display. Roman looks to Virgil, who mouths ‘no’ over and over… and seems to be about to decline… before Janus forcefully inserts himself and butts Roman out. For the sake of appearances, Virgil can do nothing but play along as Janus starts to lead him in a dance. Roman takes the hand of a nearby noble lady, casting Virgil worried looks. 

“What are you doing here, Deceit? Why can’t you just slither back into whatever dark hole you came out of?” Virgil growls at him. 

“How rude and uncharacteristic of you, Virgil: no ‘hello’? No ‘nice to see you’? Not even an appreciative glare that I was able to pick you out of this whole crowd of people? Ah, as to be expected,” Janus tsks slowly. Even Virgil can’t tell the lies in the sentence from the truths. 

“Fuck off,” is Virgil’s astute answer. 

“You never were one for the eloquent wordings, were you? I must say, me and Remus both miss your  _ soothing  _ presence at the palace,” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t miss you. You revolting reptilian,” Virgil adds, still glaring at Janus through his mask. 

“Ooh, nice alliteration there. Dearest Virgil, is there really no way for you to come back? Don’t you want to come back to the people who love you?” 

“You don’t love me. You never did! You want to use me. For my…  _ talents _ ,” They both know what that means: to utilize and weaponize Virgil’s cursed anger and fear. 

“We both know that's a lie, darling. And is it because of all of your new friends? Is that it?” 

Virgil doesn’t show any sign of that being the truth, he’s sure of it: but somehow Deceit knows. 

“Ah, it is! How very foolish of you Virgil: I thought you had better sense than that. Me and Remus, we adore you, more than these idiots ever could. You think Roman likes you, maybe even loves you: are you really so naive?” 

“You’re lying,  _ Deceit _ . I know you are! He stayed with me-” 

“Tsk tsk, Virgil, you must look at the bigger picture here. Did he stay because he likes you, or because he’s curious about how monstrous you could be? If it came between the life he leads and you, would he choose you? I think not. I think you are just a mild interest, to be thrown away at any moment you become too much to handle. So,” Janus’s eyes are somewhat pleading, as pleading as a snake eye can be, as he continues, “come home.” 

“This is my home now. You will never, ever, be home for me again. We both know full well that I can hold a grudge forever,” Virgil bares his teeth, the sharper canines standing out. 

“Virgil, please. You don’t belong here! With the singing sensation, the buffoonish maid, and that robotic statue? No, you need us. You know you do, no one knows your story like we do,” Janus insists. 

“Maybe I don’t want people to know my story, ever consider that? Maybe by doing this, what you’re doing right now, is why I wanted to leave? Why did I leave? I don’t want to have to deal with your stupid manipulative attitude and Remus’s… and Remus’s Remus,” Virgil growls, narrowing his eyes. 

“Fine, fine, fine. I yield! I’ve tried all I can,” he moans dramatically. 

“What are you getting at now, Dee?” Virgil tired, tired of dealing with this man. He used to think of Deceit as a caretaker, a friend, and perhaps a replacement for his parents. His memories of Deceit teaching him how to read and write, how to defend himself… how to deal with the curse. What he didn’t know about until it was too late… the manipulation of his feelings, the misleading compliments, the secret testing… soured this feeling of belonging so much it drove him to run. To _need_ to run. Remus’s _exciting_ _new additions_ were the final straw. 

“Virgil, Virgil… my sweet spiderling. If you don’t move back… you’re on your last strike. One little trip up… and you’re gone,” Janus almost sounds  _ sorry _ . 

“Gone?” 

“Beheaded, Virgil. You’d be… you’d be beheaded,” 

“You’re lying. You’re a liar!” 

“Virgil, I may be Deceit in many worlds and many instances, but never with something as irreversible as human life,” he insists. Virgil can’t believe this, won’t believe this. 

“How? I mean, I’m  _ sure  _ Logan hasn’t reported me, and even more sure that Patton hasn’t. And would Roman be treating me like this if he was ticking off problems behind my back?” 

“Truthfully, I agree. None of those… friends… of yours would. But, have you considered how you look to the other maids? Things can go on behind your back… and it certainly appears to all that you are immensely favored by the king. So much so that he openly gives you material gifts, takes you to parties… and from what I’ve heard, expressly serenades you from below a balcony weekly?” 

“How did you know that?” Virgil hisses. The idea that someone’s been watching is both extremely embarrassing and horribly violating. Janus clicks his tongue. 

“You should know by now, naive little Juliet, that the walls have ears and there are eyes peeking about banisters. It takes an expert in listening like myself to ensnare all of those little mice, to hear them and silence them,” Virgil still looks confused so Janus clears it up with, “I regularly check up on those who I actually like to continue living, and learn of their plights. You are one of those rare people,” 

“Ugh, seriously? _ WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE _ ?” Virgil snarls at Janus. 

“Virgil, I won’t stop asking you to come back to us. I will never. Call it stubbornness, callowness, idiocy: but you belong with us. You know you do: you are a black hole attempting to parlay with shooting stars. You may not try to, but you will inevitably swallow them whole, even if you’re attempting not to,” Virgil looks away, the song is waning, signalling that they near the end of this conversation. Janus grits his teeth, “I can make you a deal. Organize something, so that you’ll be shipped back to our kingdom without penalty. Or you can stay, and when that final strike comes, I can plan to break you free of the prison before your beheading,” 

“Janus. I forbid you from interfering with my life. I do not want a deal. I do not want to go back. I do not want you to stick your  _ fucking stupid sunflower gloves in and meddle with my life _ .  **_Got it?_ ** ” Virgil adds meaning behind the end of his sentence, knowing that Janus remembers too well the havoc that had occurred last when Virgil got so furious at Deceit. After all, he’d taken his left eye: how do you forget that? 

“You will regret this, Virgil. I’m telling you… you will. Have fun with those friends of yours, and know when you die, it could have all been avoided. And I will miss you. I will mourn, for though you hate me now, you didn’t once; once, I had considered you a son. But as in so many families, you consider me a father no more. I will learn to accept that, someday,” with that, Deceit spins Virgil out of his arms and into the embrace of Roman. Roman smiles at him, blissfully unaware of the weighty knowledge pressing at Virgil’s mind. He notices that Virgil’s shaking though. 

“Hey, hey, Virgil, what’s the matter? Are you having an anxiety attack? Are there too many people? We can leave-” 

“I have to go… I just… I have to go,” Virgil pants out. Roman grabs his hands, his eyes awash with way too much sincerity for his liking. 

“Virgil, what is it? You can tell me, you can tell me anything,” Roman’s voice is so sweet, so kind: Virgil can’t handle it. He rips his hands out of Roman’s, and attempts to ignore the kicked puppy expression. 

“You’re part of the problem! Just… just leave me alone. Send me a sonnet later, or whatever the fuck you want,” 

“Did Deceit say something to you? Oh god, did he threaten you? I swear, one of these days, I’ll have him executed-” 

“No, no. He… he didn’t do anything wrong. He was just trying to help in his own conceited way, like always,” Virgil looks up at the ceiling frustratedly. 

“Well, let me help! I can help! Let me help you,” Roman beseeches, as if he was not in the middle of a ball, as if he was not king. 

“ **_Roman_ ** . Please. Please, I’ll talk to you later,” Virgil uncharacteristically begs Roman, reaching up a hand to cup Roman’s frightened face. Roman looks surprised at the warm gesture at first: and then melts into it happily, with a dreamy smile. Virgil has to wonder why later, because now he has to  _ leave _ . So he does: he runs out of the ballroom, ignoring Roman’s steady gaze that trails after him. On his way out though, he runs headfirst into Patton on his way back in after going to the lavatory.

“Oh, hey there kiddo! Where are you going in such a hurry?” 

“Patton…” 

“Is something bothering you? You know, Loganberry always says to talk it out instead of letting it hop out all at once,” Patton nods, confident with the advice from the smartest person he knows. Virgil shakes his head, as if to ward off a pest circling. He’s trying to hold back the moistening of his eyes, and curls into himself. 

“Patton, you like me, right?” 

“Oh, baby,” Patton coos, pulling him in for a hug. Virgil pushes back, rejecting Patton’s effort. He looks betrayed, almost. 

“Don’t… don’t coddle me. You don’t know what I am, don’t belittle me-” 

“I’m not trying to belittle you… I had no idea you felt that way! Gosh, I feel like a big idiot now. I wish you’d told me you felt that way… have I hurt you? Oh no, I have, haven’t I? I promise, it’s not because I see you as less, I just… you’re… I don’t know how to say this! Gosh, Virgil. You’re part of the family!” Patton stutters, confused and worried. 

“I gotta go, Pat,” Virgil hurriedly excuses himself, running from Patton just like Roman. Feeling guilty. And of course, it can’t be a clean break. He just has to run into Logan, who has escaped the ball and sits in an illuminated spot with one of his ledgers. He closes it upon seeing Virgil’s distress. 

“Virgil, are you in a good state right now?” 

_ Fuck no.  _

“Yup, just peachy,” 

“I sense sarcasm,” Logan says astutely. 

“No shit, sherlock,” 

“Virgil, if I may, I suggest that-” 

“No! I don’t want your advice, okay? I don’t fuckin need it!  _ Leave me alone! _ ” Virgil knows full well he’s being overly rude, and that this would hurt Logan, and that he’s most definitely going into a panic attack at this point. Why won’t everyone just leave him be in this? 

“Ah. I understand. I will not keep you shackled to this conversation any longer,” Logan states concern fading from his voice and dissolving into defensive robotism, then steps aside for Virgil to escape. Virgil runs, like a released animal. 

He runs, all the way back to his room. Only when he’s behind a closed door where he’s sure no one can hear him does he fall to the ground. 

In that moment, sprawled on the plush floor, mask discarded somewhere in the room, Virgil knows that he’s never going to escape. That one strike… it’s inevitable. If Deceit is telling the truth (which is a question within itself), then there’s no avoiding it. 

No matter what Virgil says… Roman will be coming back to ask what’s wrong. He has no sense of secrecy, being a privileged noble and an extravagant performer. 

If Virgil tries to ignore him, he’ll bounce back with an even louder and bigger show. 

If Virgil accepts him even more, then he’ll flaunt him off to everyone which is exactly what he’s trying to avoid. 

If Virgil does nothing, then it will just be a ticking time bomb waiting for the last bit to fall into place. 

The only way Virgil can see possibly getting out of this situation, to keep his head and his modesty, is to scare him away. To scream and snarl and argue and explode with the power of a supernova. To not be Juliet, but rather the poison. And atop of that, he’ll have to ask to return to the regular servant quarters. Logan probably hates him now anyway, him being so rude to him earlier and exploiting his insecurities. Patton hates him too: seeing how he looked like Virgil had completely blindsided him with his vicious words of not caring at all. Virgil clenches his hands together, and starts to take the dress off and put on some sleepwear. It’s going to go in the closet, not on a hanger to display it, but rather a forgotten ball in the corner. 

It seems that Janus was right. 

He’s a black hole after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments questions concerns!
> 
> We're halfway through, folks!


	6. VI

**VI**

The rest of Roman’s ball is frustrating, for a number of reasons. Logan is nowhere to be found, which sucks. Patton is upset, and he doesn’t know why. Roman is sure that Deceit had said something to Virgil that made him unhappy, and the thought alone makes his blood boil. But since the little emo had said that it wasn’t his fault and Roman has come to the conclusion that he fears Virgil’s rage much more than Janus’s. The ball itself was fine, if not dull without his friends and family. 

Well… there was one family member still there. 

“My princessy twin! Ro, how’s it been? Did you know that one of my servants had a tapeworm extracted last week?” Remus bounces next to Roman, smiling wide. His teeth have always seemed sharper somehow… where Roman’s teeth are meant for charming heroic smiles, Remus’s look like they’re about to take a bite out of you. 

“My, my, brother, how could that have possibly gotten there?”

“I  _ may  _ have put it in his food. And  _ perhaps  _ I then didn’t give him any treatment until the last opportunity to remove it so that I could see how long it got!” 

“And how long was that?”

“HEY DEE! HOW LONG WAS THE TAPEWORM?” Remus yells across the ballroom, the other guests not even batting an eye (this is regular Remus behavior, after all). Janus turns his head, the smirk it seems that is permanently attached to his snake face, and shouts back with like an elegant throw across the room. 

“It was 76 feet, love,” he shouts. 

“It was fucking sick! I’m trying to keep it as a pet, ya know?” 

“Ah, I will never understand you,” Roman shakes his head. Remus claps him on the back, and gives him a wet kiss on the cheek. 

“Let’s keep it that way, yeah? You can have all the cutesy little hymns and I’ll have all the juicy stuff,” with that, Remus rubs his side against Roman’s, who rolls his eyes. Remus rocks on his heels for a minute, thriving in the awkwardness. “Hey, I heard you hang out with Virgey a lot now,” 

Roman’s head whips up to meet Remus’s, whose lips curl into a smile only made more disturbing by the cartoon-villain mustache he insists on sporting. And in a completely un-roman-like move, Remus is pushed into a nearby wall hidden away in the corner of the room. 

“What the  _ fuck _ , do you know about Virgil,” Roman’s eyes are almost aglow with a ferocity upon hearing Virgil’s name out of his odd twin’s mouth. 

“Do I sense some  _ sexual tension _ ?” Remus purrs, and Roman releases him immediately, stepping back and running a hand through his hair. 

“No, it’s just… fuck. Did you say something to him? Or do you know if your advisor did?” 

“Hmm,” Remus makes a big show of drumming his fingers on his chin, “Nooope. But Double Dee over there was always pre-tty protective of him, so me knowing something really doesn’t count for a whole bunch,” Roman nods at the advice, casting a glare in Deceit’s direction. _Who is he to try and claim Virgil now? He’s mine, mine I say!_ Remus places a hand on Roman’s shoulder, and squeezes painfully, his eyes darkening threateningly. 

“ **_Oh, and bro-bro? If you dare do something bad to Virgil, I will stick my mace so far up your ass that your brains will ooze out of your nose like frosting from a piping bag,_ ** ” Remus says it in a scary voice, a distorted version oddly reminiscent of Virgil when he’s panicking and losing control of his… curse. Roman scrunches his eyebrows: oh, how he wishes Logan were here to make things easier and just explain it all to him. Remus, for the first time in perhaps his whole life, is perceptive enough to realize that Roman made that connection. “You’re thinking about Virgil, and his magicy spider-boy powers, huh? It’s so cute when he’s angry: you know, once he got me real good with those extra spider legs? It was both amazing and arousing! Oh, a whole bunch o fun!” Remus giggles flirtatiously. 

“You acknowledge the correlation between the deeper tenor of your voice just then, and Virgil when he is… upset?” 

“Oh, it’s more than correlation, Hot Sauce! I hired that witch who did that spectacular handiwork on the spiderling for me, a long while ago! I told you about the tentacles a few years ago, remember?” 

Roman tries to recall that moment that Remus said that he had gotten a magical procedure to attach octopus tentacles to himself in some way. He can’t pinpoint it: all the things his twin says are pushed into one part of his mind, where they are separated into ‘useful things’ (a category lacking these days) and ‘random Remus jabberings’ (a portion horrendously overpacked and jumbled). He had probably chalked Remus saying that he had tentacles attached to his body to something useless and unimportant. Roman feels sort of bad: he wishes he remembered and affirmed it earlier. Remus has a small smile on his face: one that understands a lot of the important things he’s said to his twin get ignored. 

“I can show you sometime, if you like,” he offers, quietly, as if expecting Roman to decline. 

“I’d like that, my brother,” Roman grins, “You can play as the dragon, and I the knight?” Remus smiles, recalling the lighthearted play fights of childhood. 

“Mhmm, you’re going to love it! It’s pretty cool, and hot at the same time, if ya know what I mean,”

“Remus, I am your brother!” 

“Hasn’t stopped me before,” 

Roman makes a face, and Remus mocks it, and the king takes solace in the fact that so much has changed in his life recently but this… the CreatiTwins, will never change. Roman sighs, not wanting to break up one of the few generally sweet and not lewd or gross moments he has with his twin, but his curiosity getting the best of him. 

“Rem… I think something’s really wrong with Virge. I don’t know what it is or why, I’m just very nervous about it, and I don’t know if I should give him space or go confront him or buy him a gift or who knows what-” 

“Pfft, are you harboring a  _ crush _ ? My brother, with a silly, foolish, little  _ crush _ ??” Remus cackles, poking at Roman’s stomach incessantly, “Have you gotten under his cute little maid’s skirt yet?” 

“REMUS!” Roman turns the same shade of red as his cape, and pushes his chortling brother off of him. “I, sir, am more dignified than that!” 

“Oh, I know. You’re too much fun to tease,”    


“Don’t do that!”

“You can’t fucking touch me, and you know it! Either way, Virgil doesn’t really like grand gestures,” 

“Wait, really? I’ve been doing that this whole time…” 

“Must mean he tolerates you more than he ever tolerated anyone on my side of the border. Haha, last time I gave him a big gift, I found it shredded in the dumpster the next day! Fun times!” 

“Oof, that’s pretty rough,” Roman cringes. 

“Nah, I knew what I was doing. He put up a good fight too, brawled for a bit,” Remus smiles dreamily at the violent memory, the strange man he is. 

“So, maybe just a level-headed conversation? Perhaps with a… a flower?” 

“HAHAHA! A FLOWER? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Remus falls to the ground, laughing maniacally. No one pays him any mind. Roman shuffles his feet. 

“But, he likes the flowers… he puts it in his hair… it’s really too damned cute for someone so brooding,” Roman murmurs, a crease in his brow. 

“He even… BWAHAHAHA! Why are you even asking me these questions?? Go fuckin, yeet over a mailbox full of puppy intestines or some abstact art made by a guillotine, I don’t fucking know!! The flowers,  _ oh my gosh _ -” Remus just keeps hysterically laughing on the floor, rolling about as he can’t seem to stop. 

_ Well, I’m glad you find this entertaining,  _ Roman huffs to himself, before waiting the a few more minutes before leaving. There’s an acceptable time to leave these things, and a non-acceptable one in the realm of manners. Either way, Remus will probably keep it going for as long as he wishes anyhow so it won’t matter if Roman is there. On his way to the room of one advisor’s assistant, he plucks a purple bloom of what species he does not know and clasps it in his hands delicately. 

Does his relentless perusal make Virgil uncomfortable? Is that an issue? He’ll have to ask. Now that Virgil had fled like that, he can’t help but worry- it’s an effect Virgil’s mysteriousness seems to have on every one about him. 

Should Roman leave Virgil be for a bit, meet up with him tomorrow, whilst Logan redraws the trade agreements with Deceit? 

Hmm.

No, he’ll be happy to see Roman. He always is, in his own odd way of showing it. 

With that thought, he raps at Virgil’s door. No answer. 

Again. 

Nothing. 

“Virgil, tis I, King Roman! Let me in!” 

No response. 

More desperately now, Roman knocks on the door. 

“Virgil, are you alright? I know you said you were fine, and I gave you some time to cool off, but I really don’t believe it’s a good idea to be left alone if you’re having an episode, so I came anyway-” 

“ _ Princey. Leave me be,” _ Roman breathes a sigh of relief at hearing the gloomy man’s voice, even if it sounds weighed. 

“Oh, there you are! Let me in, please!” 

“ **_Princey, I told you to skedaddle. Don’t… don’t keep trying to come in_ ** ,” Virgil seems to be… begging? Roman refuses to believe this: someone must have done something to him! An exterior villain, snuck in through the window, and is currently with a knife to his poor Juliet’s fair throat. 

“Virgil, I am coming in!” Roman produces a spare key to Virgil’s room from a hidden pocket. Why does he have a key to his friend’s room? Well, not for any reason that Remus could imagine, assuredly: for surprises that aren’t too frightening, that won’t make Virgil jump. He’s had a plan in the works to fill his room with all different kinds of purple flowers for a while now. He bursts through the doorway to see… Virgil, sitting calmly on the bed. 

“I told you not to come in,” 

“I know, but I did anyway! I’m the king after all, aren’t I?” Roman smiles brightly. Virgil sighs, and stretches as he gets up. Roman tries to ignore the fact that he’s changed back into the shabby clothes he had before the switch to Logan’s department, and that the dress he’d  _ designed for him _ was nowhere to be seen. 

“Princey, I don’t know what kind of god you think you are, but you can’t just burst in here whenever you want! What gives you that right over me? You think just because I’m not pushing you away it means that I actually  _ like _ you? Wow, you’re more stupid than I could have ever imagined,” Virgil scoffs, glaring at Roman under his bangs. Roman’s heart, his stupid romanic, naive, fanciful, heart feels like it’s choking. Like Virgil has taken it, and drawn and quartered it. For a moment, Roman just stands there, deeply hurt and shocked. Then, his hotheaded qualities rears its head in anger. 

“What gives you the right to talk to me that way? I gave you everything! I didn’t need to!” Roman exclaims. Virgil steps forwards, backing him out into the hall. Roman barely notices. 

“Yeah, well, what made you think that was what I desired? You just burst into my life, _unwanted_ , and did what was best for _you_. It was never about me, it was about you, _oh poor Roman boo hoo he only has two friends_! And you saw me, a _fucking charity case,_ and bought me like a fucking loney alley cat. **_I never asked for you! I never wanted you!_** _”_ Roman’s hand nearly breaks the wood of the doorway. 

“Yeah, well, maybe you were a charity case? You… you’re a little freak! Who else would take you in but me?” It’s a low blow, and a harsh one, Roman knows that. Thinking back on this argument later, he’ll go over his words again and again and wish he could take them back. Over, and over, and over. 

_ “ _ **_Oh yeah? I know I’m a freak. And even more than that, I know you’re just a useless figurehead that everyone hates. You know everyone just_ ** **_despises_ ** **_you, and if you ever stop doing worthwhile things they could find a better version of you in minutes!_ ** _ ”  _ Virgil screams at him. It’s in that scary voice, fear coming off him in waves. Roman, in another moment he’ll regret later, slaps Virgil across the face with tears in his eyes. 

“You shut your mouth! I don’t have to stoop so low as to talk to spiders like you! Pfft, Juliet? Clearly, I was mistaken. You are just as evil as Tybalt- no, calling you the Prince of Cats would be a compliment to  _ scum  _ like you, wouldn’t it?” and with that, Roman turns on his heel and very quickly steps away, so Virgil won’t see the tears falling down his face. 

Virgil, to his credit, does not cry like he thought he would. He presumes a part of him always assumed that what he had was too good to last anyhow. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair. He should start packing his stuff, as Roman will probably kick him to the curb after that. Some of his most finely hewn insults, truly, formulated to be exactly what would hurt Roman the most. Maybe he’ll get lucky, and sent to a lower duke or nobleman’s home. Or not, and he’ll be sent right back to Remus and Deceit. Either way, he’s dealt with this situation all by himself, hasn’t he? 

As he turns to retreat back into his room, similar to a slinking jungle cat, his ears can just barely pick up the sound of polished shoes dashing in that way that’s meant to be quiet but really isn’t. 

Hopefully, that’s not a staff member. 

Hopefully, that’s just a drunk party goer. 

Hopefully, they didn’t hear. 

Hopefully, they don’t know how to report things to head offices. 

Hopefully, Virgil will be out of here by then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imma just run away before the shippers kill me... 
> 
> Comments questions concerns!


	7. VII

The first day Roman doesn’t see Virgil, the next day after their explosive squabble, he doesn’t care. He’s still mad. Livid, really. But by nightfall that first day, it simmers down into a completely unhappy brokenness. He… wants to see Virgil. He wants to apologize, apologize for everything. It’s too late in the evening, he tells himself. It’s an excuse, yes, but he needs a bit more time. So he allows Patton to tuck him into bed, and keeps his schedule the same as always. He has to go look over those agreements tomorrow. 

Later, looking back at this moment, he curses his laziness and fear. He shakes with anger directed at himself, because things might have been different if he went that first day. 

Instead, the next day comes and goes, a blurry mess of nothing he doesn’t recall too clearly. And that night, he heads to Virgil’s room and knocks on the door. Gently, oh so gently. 

“Hey, Virgil. It’s me. Do you… do  _ you _ want to let me in?” 

There’s no response. 

“I get it. You don’t want to talk to me, I understand. I’m… I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. None of it. You mean so much to me, more than I could ever say. More than I can write into a song, or communicate in a dance. I’ll try, but I can’t. That’s… that’s it,” 

_ Please, dear god, please say something. I’m begging you, Virgil, please. Tell me I didn’t fuck up completely. Tell me I still have a chance. _

There’s still nothing. Roman clenches his jaw so tight that it seems like it will crack, because if he doesn’t he’ll surely make a very unbecoming noise of distress. 

“Alright then. I understand. I’ll leave you alone: you know where to find me if you change your mind, anyway.” 

The next day, the third day after their fight, Roman doesn’t even bother getting out of bed. He feels rotten, completely. A total waste of a human being. He should have known Virgil was hurting and shouldn’t have taken the bait, should have sat and listened and held him. Roman can’t move, can’t do anything right, and Pat can tell, obviously. 

Patton tells everyone the king is ill. The two of them laze the day away eating sweet treats, and Patton reads to him like a small child. He reads him fairy tales where the prince always gets the princess and she never yells or screams and the prince is never crude or mean to her. Patton has to leave at some point, as his duties extend beyond those of caring for an aching king, and the moment he does… the tears just leak out. Roman touches a hand to his face in disbelief: the monarch of a kingdom, crying? Crying over a little valet, no less. 

What is he saying? Virgil is so much more than a little valet. He’s… Virgil, for god's sakes. Roman staggers to his feet, and grabs his silken robe off a nearby hook and quickly makes his way to Virgil’s room. The door is still locked, still baring his entry. Roman hates it for that.  _ After this is all over _ , he vows to himself, _ I will put a ban on doors _ . No more doors, or at least, no more locks, perhaps just a sheet. And then if Virgil’s being silent he can’t complain about Roman barging in. 

“Hey, Virge. It’s me, again. Roman. I’m so sorry. So, so, sorry. I didn’t mean any of it, not a single word. Can we just… forget it? I’ve already forgotten the things you’ve said to me, so there’s no use in being upset over it, and you should really just come out already and call me an idiot for wasting the day moping over you. I’m asking you to come out and yell at me, to pick fun at all I am. It’s an open invitation! Come on, I can’t do it myself,” Roman’s apology turns to pleading, and he can’t really tell when. He wasn’t  _ trying  _ to beg, truly. It just… came out that way. “Virgil, please? Can you at least say something? This silence doesn’t suit you one bit. It’s frankly very uncharacteristic and quite unkind, the least you can do is taunt me. Please, please, yell at me, curse me. I just want to hear you, to know you’re okay.” 

There’s nothing, nothing at all, and Roman wonders when silence became his greatest fear. He rests his forehead against the door and sighs a heavy sigh. 

“Alright, I have to go back before Patton realizes I’m gone. I hope you’re in there, and you’re listening to me, at the very least. That makes it hurt marginally less. The ignoring, I mean. I said I was fine with what you had said before. I am, really. I really… I really don’t care about all of those words. Even if you meant them,” with that, Roman solemnly mopes back to his room. Tomorrow, no sulking. He’ll shape up. Perhaps a return to normality, a return to his regular swagger and smiles, would encourage Virgil to come out. Perhaps, he has to truly demonstrate that he’s ready to move on. 

The next morning, the fourth after their fight, Roman acts more than he’s done in his whole life. He acts like a king. He acts like he’s okay. He acts like the fact that Virgil has  _ still not gotten in touch with anyone _ is perfectly tickety-boo. Just fine. He smiles and signs off on Logan and Deceit’s expertly crafted agreements. Usually, he at least tries to understand, but now, he doesn’t. He needs to decide on a perfectly Roman song to sing. When he finds it, he clutches the idea to his chest. This, yes, this, this will make Virgil forgive him. 

When nightfall comes, he skips down to the ground level, and dashes beneath Virgil’s balcony. 

“Virgil, my Juliet, I am here! Do you wish to come and confront me, out on this beautiful night?” Roman’s hopeful as he calls it out to the closed balcony doors. The shades are drawn, but Roman is sure that he’s loud enough for Virgil to hear. 

“I will sing you a ballad, fair maiden! Open your ears, and listen well,” 

Singing, Roman soon discovers, is no fun when the party you are trying to serenade is ignoring you. 

The fifth morning, Roman’s getting antsy. How does he even know if Virgil’s even in there? For all he knows, Virgil had left. Perhaps he’s gone!! That thought within itself causes a nearly paralyzing fear. Did Virgil leave? Roman paces the length of his room, still in his royal sleepwear and completely unprepared for the day ahead. 

Does Virgil hate him? 

No, no, he  _ can’t _ . Virgil can’t hate Roman because Roman loves him. Loves him with all of his heart. 

The acknowledgement of that only adds more salt into the wound, only exasperates how horribly he feels about saying those words to the dark fellow. 

So, Roman goes through the motions of the day. And at night, he sits at his desk and writes a love poem. 

The sixth morning comes with a powerful readiness. Roman feels right with this decision, like he’s been shoving different puzzle pieces in one little open spot and finally found the one that clicked just right. He animatedly does the children’s event, talks to his friends, spars with Remus. 

He has the poem tucked in his shirt pocket, some lounge clothes he’d thrown on after his shower, when Logan comes into the room.

“My liege, I must talk with you. It's urgent,” Logan states. And if Logan says it’s urgent… than fuck, it’s something you should be listening to. 

“What is it, Logan? Should I be rallying troops or-“ 

“Virgil has not shown up to work for the last six days,” Logan blurts. Roman presses his lips together. “At first, I chalked it up to him knowing of the trade agreement and how I said it would be unnecessary for him to be present… so he perhaps took that as a few days off? But that ended three days ago! He should have been here! I sent papers to his room, his old manager, everything. I need to know if you’ve seen him,” 

“Well, not in person. We… We had a rotten fight. I was actually going to go… tell him some stuff that I’ve been meaning to say. And then, perhaps he’ll brighten up and show up to work,” 

“Yes… perhaps. That may be the reason. I will be conducting a deeper search tomorrow if he is not there in the morning,” Logan adjusts his glasses and bows his head to Roman. 

“Thank you, Logan, see to it,” and then Logan holds the door open to Roman so he can go and confess to Virgil. The walk to the emo’s room, for this first time in six days, doesn’t feel so foreboding. It feels right, to finally be telling Virgil how much he loves him. 

He knocks on the door, no longer surprised at the silence that rises to meet it. 

“Hey, Virge. I really fucked up with us, didn’t I? Either way, you need to know… I didn’t mean any of it. Ha, the opposite. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, you’re very perceptive so maybe, but I’m quite infatuated with you. Perhaps that’s why I exploded on you so crazily. Even if you meant what you said… I wrote you a little something. Just…. because you’re my muse. When I’m with you, inspiration isn’t hard to find. So… heh, I can practically hear you tapping your foot and saying ‘get on with it then, Princey’. Here we go,” Roman takes a deep breath, and looks at the paper in his shaking hands. He’s planned the chords, the words. They’re sappy, and not very Virgil like: but completely generic Roman. It’s what he feels: not extravagant or fancy, just simple and needy. 

“Maybe it’s your eyes. 

The way that they can see

Clearer than any night skies 

And just so intricate in a way I could never describe.

Maybe it’s your lips. 

The way you moisten them, unconscious and carefree,

How your teeth occasionally slip 

Between those two lovely enticing strips.

Maybe it’s your hair

No, please don’t lie about that, I hear you plea

But it’s for naught, for you hair is perhaps the most fair

And you don’t notice when I watch it, as it is tossed in the midnight air. 

Dear god, why can’t you see 

That you’re you and I’m me 

And that I love you, and I’d love you

Each night and each day anew.

I’d say it a million times more, 

If you’d listen. 

I’m a bit unsteady, 

And I can’t imagine that you’re at all ready, 

But my heart beats and my eyes glisten,

Because every little thing about you

Is something I can’t live without, too,” by the end of his truthful words, Romans voice is wavering and fragile. Tears are forming in his eyes, as he presses his cheek against the still silent door.

“Did you hear me, Virgil? I love you. I love you so much. So so much. Won’t you come out and call me a fool?” He pounds his hand against the door, “How could you be so cruel to me, Virgil? I love you, I love you, and you still shut me out? Does it scare you? Do I frighten you with all of this love? I-I… if I scare you, you have to  _ tell _ me and I’ll stop, I’ll stop it all for you, just don’t  _ ignore me _ ,  _ please Virgil _ ,  _ please _ ,” Roman’s crying now. He’s held it off for a long time, he tells himself, maybe it’s time for a good cry anyhow. And then he wails, like a small child wanting his mother, he wails Virgil’s name. He can’t help it: there’s all these emotions and no one to hold them, or at least the stark absence of the person he wants so desperately. It’s as if he’s bursting at the seams with love and adoration and it hurts because the one person he wants to give it all to…

“Roman? Oh, Roman, baby, there you are. Oh my goodness, Roman,” Patton gasps, dashing over and wrapping him up in a patented dad hug. Pat pets Roman’s hair soothingly as Roman clutches onto Patton’s shirt, still crying quite pitifully for a powerful king. 

“ _ Patton _ , he won’t come out, he won’t come out. I said I loved him and he won’t say anything he  _ hates _ me and I  _ love  _ him,” Roman says rapidly, most of the words muffled to the point of incoherence. 

“I know, I know, I know kiddo. Let’s get you into bed, okay?” 

And with that, Patton helps him up and into his bed upstairs. Tucks him in, kisses his forehead. Roman pulls the thick covers over his head, and is very clearly still crying, with Virgil’s name on his lips, beneath the sheets. Patton sighs and puts his hand on Romans hidden head. 

_ I just can’t imagine that Virgil would do that to Roman, even if he was very upset. Especially after hearing him cry like that.  _ Patton thinks to himself.  _ Something's not quite right.  _

So silently and with more sneakiness than one would think he could manage, Patton takes the extra key to Virgil’s room that Roman ‘hides’ in his music box and heads to the room in question. He takes a deep breath, puts the key in the lock, and opens the door. 

Virgil’s room is empty. 

Empty and untouched. 

As if no one has been there for days. 

So on the seventh day, Roman doesn’t wish to get out of bed. But Patton shakes him awake, and when the saddened man looks upon Patton’s frantic face, he swallows his pain down. 

“Patton, what-“ 

“Virgil’s missing. He’s… he’s not in there! He hasn’t been in his room! We’ve sent out messengers to try and find him, so don’t worry about that,” Patton’s sweating buckets, “but at least now you know it’s not because he wants to cause you pain, yeah? You can try again, with him actually there this time,” 

“Patton, I don’t really want to give it another go. It… it really hurt. I didn’t like it.” 

“But imagine if Virgil said he returned your affections! You’re a creative boy, use your imagination,” 

Roman closes his eyes and imagines it up. Virgil’s light blush, the way he’d turn his head away shyly. Say something like ‘ _ Princey, is that all _ ?”, and then take Roman’s face between his and-

“Agh, what’s the use. He’s probably in Remus’s kingdom by now, we’ll never find him. I’ll never see him again, best to just move on and stop tormenting myself by thinking of him. His sweet eyes, and his prickly demeanor, and how pretty he is- _ was _ ,” Roman kicks the sheets off and frowns deeply. Patton places a hand on Roman’s knee.

“Kiddo, you don’t know that. Don’t assume, okay? Because assuming-“ 

“Makes an ass out of me and you, I know,” the dad phrase sparks a smile at Roman’s lips anyhow, and Patton calls it a success. He then brings Roman in for another warm hug, and comforts him. 

“We’ll find him. And we’ll bring him back home. And despite all he’s said, I think we both know he didn’t mean it one bit. I think we both know that’s just silly, to think Virgil would be so crass,” Patton rubs Roman’s back in that horribly comforting way that forces your body to relax all of its tension. 

Of course, all of the tension immediately returns with the door being slammed open by two tall advisors. 

“My king, Virgil is-“ Roman cuts Logan off, standing up forlornly. 

“Gone. Yeah, I know. He’s gone,” Roman states, teeth biting off the words violently. 

“No, my liege, you do not understand-“ 

“What don’t I understand, Logan? That Virgil most definitely ran from me? I should have guessed as much, I presume,” Roman clasps his hands together, and pulls open the curtains over his bedroom window. The day is bright, as per usual. Roman sighs. 

“Please, listen-“ 

“Just leave me, would you? I’d like to get dressed.” 

“You must excuse me my liege but you are being  _ so incredibly thickheaded right now _ ,” Deceit cuts in, his hands clenched into frustrated fists. Roman pays it no mind.

“How? I am being realistic,”

“ROMAN!” Logan yells, his face red and enraged. Everyone focuses on Logan, who takes a deep breath to calm himself. It doesn’t appear as often as Roman’s anger, but the rage of his closest advisor is hellish. It makes people listen. “Virgil is not gone. He has been detained in the prisons for the past week,” 

“What?” 

“He is to be executed a week from today,” 

Do you know how it feels to shatter? Because Roman does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments questions concerns! 
> 
> You know you're committed to a project if you write some shitty poetry for it <3.


	8. VIII

“WHAT? WHY?”

“I told him this would happen, oh that silly spider,” Deceit murmurs to himself, clenching his jaw in anger. Roman’s on him in moments, grabbing onto his stupid black poncho thing and pulling him in close. 

“ _ What do you mean, you knew this would happen? You knew that Virgil would be in prison and you didn’t tell anybody?”  _ Roman yells at Deceit, who watches with a bemused expression. Roman pushes Deceit against the wall angrily. “There better be a damned good explanation! If not, it’s your bloody head,” 

“Woah woah, calm down, pretty boy. I just told him what you probably already know,” 

“Alleviate that information, would you?” Logan demands. 

“You were not aware of your own servant system? The way that each person gets 25 strikes and then is expelled from the palace?” 

“Yes, of course. Me and Patton, we instituted that when Roman was a child so that it would be easier for Patton to care for him. It has worked autonomously for years without fail: the people add a strike for each mistake or misstep they witness in the workplace. Then an overseer decides if it is a true mistake and affirms it. What does this have to do with anything?” 

“Well, clearly you have seen yourselves. Galavanting around? Obviously preferring little Virgil over those who have worked here their whole lives? No wonder he’s already gotten all of the strikes…” Deceit rolls his eyes. 

“But he shouldn’t have been locked up!” Patton cries out, eyes watering at the idea that Virgil being detained and eventually killed could be from his wanting to stay with his adoptive son. “Oh gosh, I’m the reason Virgil’s there! Oh no, Logan we could have gotten rid of that ages ago! Oh  _ god _ ,” Patton holds a hand to his mouth, feeling sick. Logan immediately bends down, on instinct, to comfort Patton with a nice hug. Patton reaches around the tall logical man and squeezes tightly. Deceit’s expression twists in some indescribable way, and Roman sets him down instead going to look at Patton’s shaking form, whose skin seems to be greener than usual. 

“Patton. Calm down. Breathe. In for 5 seconds. That’s it. Hold it… a little more… yes, good, now out for seven,” Logan soothes Patton in a way that makes Roman wonder if this has been happening behind his back all along: Patton’s little bouts of panic from intense regret and how he always feels guilty. Logan brushes Patton’s hair back in a soothing motion, and Patton finally seems to be okay. He then peers up at Deceit through his glasses. “Even so, with those 25 strikes… he shouldn’t be executed. Not without explicit consent from the king,” 

“Ah ah ah, you must recall dear Logan, that Virgil is a special case. A case that exceeds 100,000 gold pieces in debt to pay,” 

“It’s too much debt. A person with that much gets executed as they aren’t pulling their weight at 25 strikes, with or without judicial consent.  _ Fuck _ ,” Logan curses. Roman still isn’t buying the scheme completely. 

“It still doesn’t explain why you knew all of this and didn’t tell anyone! Or how you knew it in the first place, actually! Fess up, serpent,” Roman demands, unsheathing his sword and holding the point to Deceit’s juglar in one clean motion. He, the ass he is, simply rubs a spec of dust from his yellow gloves nonchalantly. 

“Oh, Roman, how I love our quaint squabbles. Let’s start with that first question, shall we? I did tell Virgil of this, the first chance I got. Though we’ve had our… disputes, let’s say, over the years I would never go to hurt him. Though I cannot physically protect him nowadays, I go out of my way to place little… eyes, you could say, to watch over my dear boy. He’s like a son to me, you know that? I shaped a large part of his life. Me and your twin, Roman, we were the defining characters of his adolescence,” 

“That explains why he’s so screwed up about talking about his feelings!” Roman snarls.

“No, that’s a problem completely unique to Virgil. I fear that that is an issue derived from his biological parents despite all of my efforts…” 

“You’re lying. You must be!” 

“It only speaks to your own stupidity that you do not accept my honesty,” Deceit raises an eyebrow, and Roman’s sword arm is lowered back to his side by Patton. 

“I believe you, Janus. I think you’re telling the truth,” Patton smiles at Deceit, who looks taken aback. He clearly didn’t think that any of them would trust him that readily. Patton’s grin increases in brightness, and Janus attempts a kind smile in retribution but only manages an awkward smirk. 

“Logically, your claims are feasible,” Logan alludes. 

“You’re not seriously putting your faith in  _ Deceit _ , are you?” Roman exasperates. They all look at the king with varying degrees of emotion. 

“Roman… I’d think that you of all people would care more about Virgil’s life rather than my honesty,” 

Roman blanches, then reddens.  _ I shouldn’t be fighting with this snake. I should be running to Virgil and making sure he’s alright. Freeing him at a moment's notice, rescuing the princess.  _

_ Why the fuck am I still here? _

“I gotta  _ go _ ,” Roman declares, sheathing his sword completely and blowing out of the room. He dashed down hallways, down staircases, until he finally reached the dungeon. It’s probably his least favorite place (with the exception of maybe the drab study rooms that Logan used to put him in when he was younger), with the damp stony floor and the stifled humid air that escaped out of the vents. A perfect show dungeon, worthy of a great play, but absolutely gross for a shining star such as himself. The jailer, a hulking man that has a just soul who goes by the name Quinn, nods to Roman from inside the bars barring his entrance. He opens his ledger of current occupants. 

“My king,” he says gruffly, “who ere ye in fer?” 

“Virgil? He doesn’t go by any last name. About yea tall, brooding, dark eyeshadow?”

“Ah, got ‘im in ‘bout a week ago, righ? Got an appointment with the ol axe next block?” 

“Yes, yes. Can I please just see him now?” Quinn nods slowly, making a mark in the ledger dutifully.

“O’ course. I’ll take ye to ‘im now,” he responds, swinging open the door to allow Roman to pass, and then leading him down the winding hall. Roman can feel the eyes of the prisoners on him as he struts by, but for once in his life he pays them no mind. Virgil has been stuck in here for a week. A week of him thinking that Roman had let this happen, that Roman didn’t care. It must have been horrible. 

“This chap ‘asn’t ‘ad any visitors at all. If you don’t ‘ind meh askin, why are yeh visitin’ now?” 

“Oh, Quinn. I had no clue he was here! I’ve been a mess all week because of it,” 

“Really? Why’s that, meh king?” 

“Have you ever been in love, dearest Quinn?”

Quinn blushes, and shows off the wedding band on his finger that had been hiding beneath the jailer’s black gloves. 

“Then you know,” 

“Well, in that case, feel freeh to visit ‘im anytime yeh like, whether I’m ‘ere er not. You don’t got much time left,” 

“I’m going to free him. No matter the cost to me and my image, I’m freeing him,” 

“If yeh say so,” Quinn scratches his head, “but those laws that the royal advisor had ‘ade ere real ’atertight,” 

Before Roman can put in a response, they’ve made it to Virgil’s cell. The poor man is nestled in the bed, wrapped up like a cocoon in the covers. The cell itself is barren, the ammienties sparse but humane. Roman will fix the barrenness with so many lovely gifts and heartfelt presents, though he can’t imagine that Virgil will be stuck there very much longer. If he has anything to say about it, Virgil will be back in his proper place as Logan’s assistant/Patton’s dark strange son/Roman’s quipping angsty most lovely friend-to-maybe-be-more. Roman waves off Quinn, wanting -no, needing- some private time. 

Roman awkwardly knocks on the bars. It makes a horrible clanging noise that makes Roman wince. 

“Virgil?” Roman breathes nervously, all of the anxiety he’d had over the week about everything ‘Virgil’ in the past week coming to the surface all at once, “It’s me. It’s-it’s Roman,”

“You finally came. I thought you were going to be mad at me forever,” comes Virgil’s voice from the sheets. Roman’s heart shatters at the sound, and how dry and saddened it is. Virgil sounds hopeless, and fully accepting of it. Roman pushes closer to the bars. 

“No no no, I’m not mad at you! I’m not mad at all! Really. I said I forgave you a long while ago,” Roman insists. 

“You never told me that. I thought you were gonna let me rot in here. Well, until my head is lopped off,” 

“ _ Don’t say that. _ I’m going to get you out of here! Okay, so don’t you worry bout a thing. I’ll take care of everything,” there’s a moment of silence, and then, “I forgave your door, anyhow,”

“You  _ what _ ?” Virgil whirls around in shock, the blankets falling down around him. What was that thing Patton used to say?  _ Distance makes the heart grow fonder _ ? Roman decides that ‘fonder’ doesn’t begin to cover it. Somehow, his feelings seem to explode in his chest when he looks at Virgil for the first time in what feels like years. Did he get more beautiful in the time that has passed? It’s a wonder that he can’t hear the crescendo in his heartbeats. 

Virgil, on the other hand, just looks at Roman incredulously. The shadows under his eyes are still there, the purple tint in his hair, the violets of his eyes. 

“What do you mean, ‘forgave my door’?” Virgil restates dubiously.

“Oh, I had thought you were in there,” Roman waves the thought away with the fluttering of his hands.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU OPEN THE DOOR, DIPSHIT?” 

“I was respecting your privacy! You know, like you had said to me,” 

Virgil runs a hand through his hair frustratedly. Then calms himself with a practiced deep breath.  “Princey, just so you know, like, none of what I said was really meant. I just said them because I knew it would make you upset. And I thought I wouldn’t end up here if you didn’t hang out with me,” Virgil explains grouchily, turning away. Roman, externally, nods sagely and understandingly. Roman, internally, pumps his fist in the air and begins the celebratory parade. 

“I didn’t think it was, of course. And I didn’t mean any of the things I said, either. Are we good?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Splendid,” Roman is looking at Virgil rather strongly, and decides to make a move instead of sitting there patiently, “Juliet, can you… can you come over here? I just… you’re too far away. For me,” 

Virgil gives him a skeptical look, but obeys anyhow and comes to sit on the floor right in front of the king. Roman breathes heavily, and then oh-so-carefully pushes his hands through the gaps in the bars. He leaves them palms up for Virgil to take. The tired man raises his eyebrows, expecting a trick. Roman shakes his head:  _ not a trick. No, I just want to hold your hands, you beautiful worrywart _ . 

Virgil lets him, and Roman breaks into a bright grin. Virgil’s hands are paler than Roman’s ones, seeming even more ghost-like compared to the golden hue that Roman’s skin takes on from living his life in the sun. Virgil’s are worn and calloused but somehow still dainty and delicate… sharp yet tired. They appear small in Roman’s hands, but like a nesting doll, it fits perfectly. He wishes that one day, and one day soon, he can feel those delicate hands on each cheek of his face. But not because he asked, no, but because Virgil wanted to. 

“Fucking shit, turn off the lights, Princey,” Virgil hisses, wincing at the legitimate glow of Roman’s expression.

“Sorry,” Roman says completely unsorry for being absolutely delighted. Virgil rolls his eyes, and hides his smirk beneath the safe cover of his bangs. 

“Hey, Sunshine,” 

“ _ Yessss? _ ” 

“Can you bring me my cloak? The one with the hood?” 

“You weren’t able to bring it?” 

“No. I didn’t have it on me when I was taken so… that’s a big fat no,” 

“Absolutely! Of course, Virgil. Of course. Is there anything else? Literally. Anything,” 

“Anything?” Virgil asks with a shrewd smirk. 

“I don’t like that expression, Virge,” Roman says playfully, still prepared to spend a fortune on this man who is so lightly holding his hands through prison bars. 

“I want my pillows, and my books, and my makeup, and-” 

And a whole lot of other things. Roman takes note of it all with a smile, happy to provide for Virgil’s desires. Happy to remedy any problems. Roman squeezes Virgil’s hands.

“I’ll get right on it, your majesty,” 

“Yeah, you better, peasant,” Virgil snickers, causing Roman to chuckle as well. This… this little playful banter, it makes Roman contented and blissful and not at all worried about the  _ fact that if he doesn’t get working Virgil will die- _

Virgil notices, obviously, as Roman’s cheerful grin sours to a pressed line. He takes his right hand out of the embrace and moves it to poke Roman’s cheek. 

“Ro, you good?” 

“I’m gonna get you outta here, Virge. I promise. I swear on my life,” Roman says quietly, firmly. Virgil even looks taken aback at the strong backing of the sentence. It’s more powerful than any of the ramblings he usually does… it’s the power of the truth. 

“Yeah?” 

“Indubitably. I’ll be right back after I get your things. Is there anything else?” 

“I want to apologize to Logan and Patton too. It’s been giving me a lot of… anxiety… just leaving things like that. And say a couple things… I want to come clean about,” It doesn’t take a genius to understand that Virgil is trying to clear the board, go out with a clean slate, and that that includes things like ‘I’m actually part spider’. 

“You want me to be here?” 

Virgil closes his eyes and nods heavily. Roman squeezes his hands again, his heart seizing at the idea that Virgil wants him to be there. That Virgil wants him, his protection, his presence. Angels are fucking singing. Roman rubs his thumbs over Virgil’s hands one last time before leaving to follow his commands to a T. 

“Oh, and Virgil?” 

“Mhmm?” 

“There’s one thing that you had said in our little… dispute, let’s call it… about me just being desperate for a friend?” Virgil cringes, turning away.

“Can we  _ please _ not talk about this? I want to forget it. Don’t remember me- it that way,” 

“That’s alright, I don’t. I just need you to know… it’s not because I was desperate for a friend or simply another. I was happy, back before I knew you. But it compares to nothing when put side by side with how I feel now. Honestly, what I’m trying to say is: I’m desperate for you, Virgil. Only… for you,” 

Virgil’s mouth hangs ajar with his hands still outstretched beyond the prison bars as Roman walks away confidently, excited to help. 

And now he has to wait. These four walls of his prison do not change, he knows that, but somehow with Roman being there it felt easier and brighter. The moment he can’t hear the joyous skips of the king no more, the darkness crawls back on the edges of his vision. Virgil skirts back to his bed and pulls the blankets about him. Surely those who could see him would be utterly confused to why he continuously hides beneath them. 

_ They must think me a fool. That I am truly an insane person who belongs here.  _ Virgil sneers to himself. He tries not to focus on that thought. Instead of picking at his fingers and skin like he had before to distract himself (it was a miracle within itself that Roman hadn't noticed the bruises and scratches on nearly every inch of skin), he puts one hand over the other to impersonate the clasped hands that he had had with the king minutes prior. It feels… nice. 

Virgil has not been held in any sense of the word for the majority of his life. And when Patton had (because of course it’s Patton), Virgil never knew how to react to them. But Roman made it simple. Easy, almost. Like it wasn’t any big deal. Or, it may be due the fact that he hasn’t seen any soul except Quinn and even that was just for meals and missed the steady persistent presence of the romantic. 

He… missed Roman? 

His face twists at the thought of missing the overly-cheerful and quipping man, albeit clever and good smelling. 

_ No no no. Not going to happen. You’re going to die in a mere seven days. No time for these silly ideas.  _

He just hopes that Roman will come back. He’s so bright that all the darkness Virgil can’t help but expel is just washed away. It’s relaxing, how distracting Roman is. A relief, really, because the past days in prison have been hell without some kind of distraction from his thoughts. Perhaps that’s why he never minded dirty work. It was gross sometimes, and tedious, but made him busy. 

He keeps the blankets on, because without distraction, his anxiety gets so worked up and overbearing that his extra arms begin to poke midway out of his back painfully and his eyes shift uncomfortably beneath the skin. So the blankets have to stay. At least until Roman returns with his hood, his beloved safe hood. 

There are footsteps tapping down the hallway. More than just Roman’s. Virgil turns to watch them within his pile of blankets. It’s all of those people with too much light, the people that he’d asked Roman to retrieve for him. Roman waltzes in with his arms full of items he’d asked for, Logan right behind him with the key to his cell, and Patton hiding behind Logan with two hidden objects tucked away in his arms. 

“Dearest Virgil, I have received the things you asked for! Pretty quick, am I right?” 

“Gimme,” Virgil demands, simply. Roman chuckles, and allows Logan to open the door. “Are you guys… gonna stay with me for a while?” 

“Apologies, dearest Juliet, but law restricts me from staying there alongside you. We will have to settle for the bars between us. I’ll leave your possessions here?” 

Virgil nods, and Roman delicately places the items on the only spare surface in the cell. Roman tsks at the sight of this room: he’ll be adding small comforts everywhere soon enough. Perhaps it will be wasted, for Virgil will be out of here as soon as Roman can manage, but he wishes that there will never be a moment that he is uncomfortable. Roman, like a genie performing wishes, produces a familiar garment from the pile. Virgil was going to stay calm, cold and collected but at the sight of his hood and cloak... he lunges for it and snatches it out of Roman’s hands. He throws it over his head, wraps the cloak part around him happily as Roman chuckles. 

“You happy now, Dark & Stormy?” 

Virgil surprises Roman with an actual genuine response: “Yeah. Thank you,” 

“You’re very welcome. It’s nice to see you happy,” Roman brushes his hand on Virgil’s shoulder before going to exit the cell. Virgil, still having a few surprises left apparently, grabs his sleeve to stop him from leaving. 

“Hey… could you maybe… just stay in here? Only for when I tell them. I just… it feels bad, like I’m on display if everyone’s on one side looking at me. It’s too… it’s too much,” Virgil whispers. Roman melts, his heart growing tender still for the emo who has implanted himself there. 

“Yes! Yes, of course,” 

“Don’t think too much of it, Princey. You mention this situation outside of this moment and I’ll stab you,” He then hisses, and Roman takes some strange solace in the idea that he is mostly unchanged by this horrendous experience. 

“You’ll stab me?” 

“Right in the heart,” Virgil assures. 

_ Please, go right ahead. You’ve claimed it already,  _ Roman thinks drily to himself. Honestly, Virgil could pluck his still beating heart right out of his chest and he’d still love him. Heck, Roman would give it to him if it meant a single kiss. 

Instead, Roman holds Virgil’s dainty hands in his own and stands behind him. So if he were to fall… he’d fall right into Roman. And Roman would catch him. 

“Virgil, this all seems incredibly unnecessary. If this is on the topic of your insults to Patton and I individually, we both now understand you were under an abnormal amount of stress and most certainly did not mean what you said. I will be scouring the law and judicial proceedings to free you, and be able to perform that task faster if you’d allow me to depart,” Logan adjusts his glasses. 

“N-no. No. That’s not it. If this whole experience has told me anything it’s that I gotta be fucking honest. Clearer, about things that don’t just affect me. Things that affect other people. I mean, when I told you guys about my anxiety attacks, it helped me. You helped me. So… maybe you can help now. Or at the very least, understand a few more things before I go. And maybe also learn why I’m not so scared of dying, heh,” Virgil sighs sadly. Roman makes a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat and squeezes Virgil’s hand. He’d do more, like hug him or kiss his neck, but doesn’t think that it would be appreciated or help him much in his wooing endeavours. 

“Aww, Virge, we’d love and understand you no matter what! I’m sorry I haven’t said anything, I thought it better to say quiet so I won’t say anything out of turn but… don’t die,” Patton ends his tirade meekly, pressing up against the bars and smiling at him behind his rounded glasses. Through the bars, Patton pushes a folded card and a stuffed animal. Virgil takes it carefully, and claps a hand to his mouth. “UR FAM” and on the inside, “ILY”. Your family. I love you. Little Patton drawings of the four of them. The stuffed animal is an angsty looking dragon that's somehow cute. 

“Do ya like it? I made it just for you!! The card, I mean. I’ve had the dragon for a while, was going to give it to you when the time was right,” Patton grins. 

“Oh… Patton… thank you. This is… these are the best gifts I’ve ever gotten,” 

“Hey! What about me? I gave you the hood!” Roman pouts. Virgil slaps him lightly on the cheek, and tucks the card into a secret pocket in his cloak the precious thing it is. 

“This is way better than the cloak. Pat wins,” 

“Yay, I won! What did I win, again?” 

“The best dad ever award,” Virgil says sarcastically. 

“YAY!” Patton cheers. Logan rubs his temples. Virgil wishes he could stay in this moment forever, but he knows he has to tell them about his curse. It’s an important part of who he is. 

“I’m going to show you my… problem, now. Just… promise me you won’t freak out? Or scream?”

“I doubt you could make me create such an unprofessional sound, Virgil,” Logan affirms. Patton grabs Logan’s arm, preparing himself. 

“I’ll try, but I am a bit of a scardy cat. I’ll do my best though,” Patton assures him. Virgil bites his lip, and removes his hooded cloak and hands it to Roman, who cocks his head. 

“Don’t want it to get ruined,” He murmurs. With that, Virgil lets go of himself and allows the long purple mottled spindly arms to fully press out of his back. He’s always hated how it felt, to have appendages sliding from unknown places inside you, and the tingles that arrive when they touch the open air. He blinks quickly, adjusting to the arrival of four other eyes in his vision. Each suited to different amounts of light, Virgil grunts as they adjust. His teeth elongate so that they are beyond his lips, sharp fangs that could surely puncture skin if given the opportunity. Blindly, his human hand searches for Roman’s to hold as he explains his story and how this curse came to be. 

Patton has hidden completely behind Logan’s frame, who for himself looks much less scared and rather amazed and inquisitive. 

“This is incredible! How is this scientifically possible? Is part of your genetic makeup one of a spider? Do you know which spider species you affiliate most with?” Logan asks rapidly. Virgil shrugs, not wanting to speak. He’s sure if he does, it will frighten Patton even more. Muffled, from behind Logan, the cheerful man explains himself. 

“Sorry, Virgil, I’m just not the biggest fan of spiders… heh. They scare me,” Virgil tries not to bite his lip in anxiousness. 

“ **_Well, I can tell you this much… four more arms are better for one thing,_ ** ” 

“Doubles tennis?”

“ **_No. They’re really… really good for hugs,_ ** ” Virgil prompts cautiously. Patton brightens, and peeks out from behind Logan’s lean frame. 

“Can I have a hug?” 

“ **_Get in here, big guy,_ ** ” Virgil chuckles. Roman unlocks the prison door, and allows Patton to carefully tiptoe in to embrace Virgil. Even though he’s spider-like and monstrous, he’s still a person. A person who buries his head in Pat’s neck as he hugs with all six of his arms. 

“You’re right, this is like… a super-Virgil hug,” Patton giggles. 

“ **_Heh… I’m glad that you guys are okay with it. It scared me,_ ** ” 

“I mean, it looked pretty scary but I know it’s just my Virgil and that makes it okay!” Patton enthuses animatedly. Virgil grits his teeth as he achingly pulls the arms back inside himself and closes the eyes from view. Roman hands him his hood, and then leaves the cell with Patton. 

“Virgil, I understand that you may be objecting to the idea of physical tests and such on this form but imagine the possibilities! Perhaps you produce your own venom! Or even better, can you crawl on vertical surfaces? Have you attempted such?” 

“Uh… no?” 

“Unacceptable. There's so much information to be gleaned from this, about the nature of transformative magics and science! There must be a scientific explanation for all of this…” 

“Alright, brainiac,” Virgil huffs. Still theorizing, Logan and Patton exit the dungeons presumably to find the clause in the law that would assure his freedom. He’s sort of shocked at how well they had both taken this: Patton was scared, at first, but overcame it easily and Logan seemed more excited about this than he’d seen him about anything. 

“That was a remarkable success,” Roman notes. Virgil almost forgot that he was still there. 

“Yeah… it really was. They… didn’t hate me at all,” 

“Of course they didn’t! Do you really think that any of us could actually hate  _ you _ ?” 

“...Maybe…” Virgil says under his breath. Roman presses up against the bars, reaching his hands through to hold Virgil’s .

“Even if they did end up hating you, which I don’t think could ever happen, I would never leave you. I’m going to get you out of here, and everything can go back to the way it was. Or, it could change to whatever you want. But all I know is that I can’t live without you now. You’re… you’re Juliet. I don’t know how else to explain it,” Roman professes. The way he says it, it sounds so carefree and honest. Virgil could never be able to say something like that with such ease, even if he did feel the same way. 

“Sounds like a plan, Princey,” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

“You’ll come back, right?” A part of Virgil is hesitant. Which part, he doesn’t know. The part that was beaten by his parents? The part that was betrayed in a way that maybe wasn’t betrayal but still hurt like hell from Deceit? The part that hates the idea of trusting someone with… anything? The part that doesn’t fear death because it’s the only thing that he’s sure of? 

“It would be idiocy to think that I wouldn’t,” Roman assures him, breaking him from his spiralling thoughts. 

“Well, you’re an idiot so I just had to make sure,” Virgil says weakly. Roman smiles at him. 

“I’m going to get you some really fancy foods. How does chocolate croissants, berries with clotted cream, and those little finger sandwiches for lunch?” 

“Are you going to come and eat with me?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“Whatever.” 

“I’ll take it as a ‘yes, please Roman’!” 

“You’re fuckin full of yourself, you know that?”

“Oh, you love it,” 

“Hmph,” 

It would have been even more perfect for Roman to just leave then and return with food, but Virgil is surprised by Patton and Logan reentering the room. Logan hangs back, watching Patton very carefully. Something is about to go down, and Patton’s nervousness is tangible. His fingers fumble together as he smiles awkwardly at Virgil inside his cell. 

“Hey, Pat,” Virgil says carefully, unsure of  where this  conversation will go, “Is everything  alright ?” 

“Yeah, yeah, you know, I was talking to Lo, and we agreed that hey if you were strong enough to tell me about the spidery thingy then I can talk to you,  _ right _ ?” Patton seems incredibly incredibly worried. More worried about it than Virgil had been earlier, ironically.

“Erm, of course,” Virgil says, tugging on the edge of his cloak.

“Okay… so… heh, how do I explain this? So, when your anxiety gets bad or you get upset or something you go into spider form, right?” Virgil nods slightly, eyes never leaving Patton’s shaky form. “Well, I have something sorta… similar? Lo- I can’t, I need help,” Patton breathes, turning to the loyal advisor. Logan, his lips set in a firm line, approaches Patton and places a hand on his shoulder. 

“Whereas you, Virgil, were cursed with arachnoid characteristics of which emerge during moments of extreme stress. Patton, on the other hand, has had these incredible mutations due to mostly natural circumstances. Some complications at birth or something similar,” Logan seems to be fading into scientific hypothesis mode, and Virgil’s eyes flash. 

“But what actually happens here? You haven’t told me what actually happens!” 

“Lily Patton happens!” Patton smiles brightly. He seems to like the nickname more than the actuality of it. 

“Lily… Patton?” 

“Patton, as he mutates into a giant frog,” Logan asserts plainly, his hands pressed together in a contemplative motion.  _ A giant frog? He literally just hulks out.  _

“Get it? Because frogs hang out on lily pads. And I’m Patton!” Patton says, poking his cheeks. Virgil is just… confused. 

“So, long story short, I’ve been a  _ fucking mess  _ about telling you guys about my curse  _ and Patton has been suffering similarly this whole time?? _ ” Virgil growls, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Logan has a bemused expression as he does when he knows that he knew more than someone else, and Patton has a flustered smile. 

“Yeah, I guess so! We can be ani-morph buddies!” Patton smiles, then it fades, “I mean, if that’s alright with you. If you’re not disturbed by this whole thing, and decide to hate me… heh heh,”

“Pat, it’s impossible to hate you. Literally,” Virgil snorts, rolling his eyes. Logan inclines his head from behind Patton agreeably. “But…”

“But what, kiddo?” 

“How do you not hate yourself for it? Like, I can’t look at a spider or anything like that without feeling  **_fucking disgusted with myself_ ** ,” Virgil’s hands shake slightly, and Logan seems about to intervene when Patton holds him back.

“Because I’m not a frog. I’m Patton. That’s me, and I’m special. You’re super special too! It’s not your fault either way, and it’s pretty cool too. Also, frogs are adorable and cute and precious,” Patton smiles, then adds, “Spiders are sorta cute too, I guess… the extra eyes and the hairy legs… and uhh…” 

“Two chelicerae,” Logan assists. Both Patton and Virgil look at each other, and laugh. “I do not understand, spiders  _ do  _ have two chelicerae!” Logan exclaims. 

“It’s cool if you don’t like spiders, Pat,” 

“Just because I don’t like spiders doesn’t mean I don’t love you!” Patton’s bubbly attitude would usually cause Virgil to gag at least slightly, but it’s more than welcome in the dingy dungeon. No matter how dark things get, or how frightened, or how messed up Patton gets, he finds a way to jump back into things. He wants to love and to be loved, the heartful guy he is, and that tends to overcome everything else. It’s no wonder everyone loves him, and it’s shocking to Virgil that he ever survived without this source of glowy joy. “If we’re going to defend the kingdom, we need more people on our superhero team!! Who else should be on our ani-morph team? Oh, this is so exciting! We can get themed snacks!” Patton claps his hands together, “Maybe Remus and Janus? They have animal things going on, right?” 

“Yeah, heh, I guess so. After I get out of here,” Virgil only has to agree a little bit and Patton’s over the moon. 

“YAY!” The both of them make moves to leave, but Virgil has one more question. He almost doesn’t want to ask, but it’s too important not to. 

“Does Roman know?” he says quietly. He thinks he already knows the answer.

“No… we thought it best not to tell him when he was young. And then, it was just postponed over and over again these last few years… just never the right time,” Patton says sheepishly, his face red. 

“You’ve gotta tell him sometime,” Virgil says firmly. Logan nods, prodding Patton’s side. 

“Yeah, I know,” Patton winces. 

“Promise me, you will,” 

“I will. I promise, Virgil. You’ll be there with me though, right?” Patton pouts adorably. 

“Pfft, of course, obviously,” Virgil agrees. Patton grins thankfully. Logan has a little half smile on his face. 

Virgil just hopes he’ll be able to do that for them before he’s executed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments questions concerns!


	9. IX

Roman has all but given up hope. No, he must never give up hope, but here he is. They’ve expired every option they could look for, gone through every clause. Even when Deceit had offered to do some illegal shenanigans to break him free and get him away, Virgil had denied it vehemently. He doesn’t want to be a criminal like his parents. Any changes Roman could make should have been done at least a week ago, and by the time they’d go into effect it would be too late. Virgil will already be dead.    


Virgil… dead. His execution date is tomorrow at dawn. 

Roman claps a hand to his mouth to muffle his sob. He had been so sure that it would all be okay. That he’d be able to save him. And it appears… that he can’t. Logan, Patton, and even Deceit and Remus had all pitched in the past week to find a solution and there was a general consensus that Virgil is doomed. 

Logan said that the problem was exactly what Deceit had alluded to: his debt was simply too big to excuse. Coupled with the fact that he wasn’t even a year at the palace, and had just been transferred, there is no defense to save him from this. For all intents and purposes, he should have been reprimanded and either let go or something similar a while ago. It was only due to Roman’s constant attention and the strange new job that he’d pushed him into that this had all seemed so sudden. 

So, in other words, this is Roman’s fault. Of course, Logan nor Deceit would say that. And it makes it almost impossible to stand. He’s supposed to bring dinner down to Virgil. They eat dinner early, together, because they eat all of their meals together. Early because Roman needs time to talk to Virgil, as much time as possible. But he can’t bring himself to go down, knowing that the next time he’d see him it would be on the chopping block. 

“ _ Shit _ ,” Roman didn’t mean to curse aloud, but there he goes. He can’t do this. He can’t. He’s supposed to be the hero, to swoop down and save his princess and he  _ can’t _ . He can’t figure out if he’s supposed to be sad or angry or some grotesque mix of both. Perhaps the worst part is that he’s abandoning Virgil doing this, that the last thing the man will think of him is that he was too chicken to come and face him on his last day. 

His last day. 

Roman feels as if Virgil dies, he will die with him. His heart will be buried with his. 

Fucking shit, he can’t do this. 

A thought crosses his mind, unbidden:  _ I can’t do this sober _ . 

Roman has never been a real fan of alcohol. When drunk, he’s either floozy and flirtatious (which resulted in too many completely unsavory letters from people he’d attempted to kiss whilst under the influence) or way too much like Remus for his liking. He’s never really felt the  _ need  _ to drink anyway. He’s confident and creative enough to attempt most things without the help of being drunk. Remus, on the other hand, was rarely seen without being at least partially tipsy. How he’s able to rule a country like that, especially with the hangovers, he’ll never understand, but somehow it’s okay. There was one horrific experience from his earlier years where Remus and his drinking buddy Remy had crashed in Roman’s room and they’d all gotten blackout drunk together… Roman still doesn’t know what happened, but he does know that Patton refuses to tell him. The hangover was painful enough that he couldn’t focus with Logan for the two days following the debacle. According to Remus, it’s because he doesn’t get hungover due to the fact that he’s  _ always  _ drunk: in his words, “The best hangover cure is to be more drunk.” To accentuate his point, Remus had given Roman two large bottles (because they’re twins) of the strongest stuff he had. He’s kept in in the enchanted case this whole time in the back of his shoe closet- 

Before Roman can really think about the wiseness of this decision, he’s uncorked the bottle and chugs the first quarter of it. It burns on the way down, stinging his throat. Roman sighs in some strange sense of relief and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He slides down the closet wall, finally sitting back to the wall with his knees sliding out to splay his legs on the ground. As he brings the bottle to his lips for a second round, he really hopes that he had remembered to lock the door. 

Meanwhile, Virgil is supposed to be waiting for Roman. He drifted off to nap at around 6ish, having realized at the point that he wasn’t coming. Makes sense. He doesn’t blame the king, really: best to cut off your ties before the last minute, and he wasn’t hungry anyway. Virgil has been pampered ceaselessly in the past week, rich-people-things littering every place. All from Roman. Roman… really doesn’t want him to die. None of the people closest to him do, which isn’t a big shocker. It’s going to happen though, and it’s bad for any of them to try and deny it. 

He should write them a note or something. Not something he’d usually say, about them being stupid or whatever. Something sappy, something Roman would write that’s still Virgil. He’ll draw a little bit too: one of the many presents from Roman included a sketchbook, charcoal, and ink to do whatever he wanted. So far the entries include a demonic looking spider, a nest with a wicked crow, an unattractive caricature of Roman, and then one he hadn’t shown anyone yet: a legitimately attractive Roman. Though he loathes admitting it, Roman is… incredibly photogenic. That’s it- something that’s not abrasive, and shows that he cares. He’ll draw everyone. Patton with his cookie and his anime girl poses. Logan with his glasses and ledgers by his window overlooking the forest. Janus and his favorite game, poker. Remus with his mace and absurd amounts of pickles and rum. He gets to work immediately. 

Virgil is relatively undisturbed until well after the sun has set, all the drawings being done except some of the finer details on Remus’s complicated attire. That’s when unsteady footsteps are heard stumbling down the hallway. He perks up. Definitely not Quinn, he’s always steady. The stumbling equates to drunkenness, but the only person he knows to get drunk is Remus, and Remus is more violent about his stomping when intoxicated. 

“ _ Virrrgillll _ ,” Roman slurs, finally tripping into view. And oh god, he is extremely drunk. Drunken smile, glazed eyes, and everything. It’s  _ hysterical _ . His clothes are all askew, buttons undone and looking positively sexy in that ruffled I-woke-up-this-way sort of look. Except for the tipsy sense, anyway. 

Somehow he still manages to hold the key to his cell and open the door to stumble inside. 

“Princey, you’re  _ fucking slammed _ ,” Virgil chortles, laughing at Roman. Roman reaches out for Virgil with grabby hands, and looks so baby-like and desperate that he can’t help but oblige him by opening his arms and setting his sketchbook aside. Roman hugs Virgil tightly. 

Roman even smells drunk, the alcohol he’d drunk coating his usual scent like a slick sheen. 

“Virgil, Virgil, Virgil,” Roman repeats, nuzzling his neck in an odd but not disagreeable way, “I missed you… Imma sorry I was late. Couldn’t… couldn’t keep you waitin’ though,” he sniffles. 

“It’s alright… shit, you are so buzzed,” 

“I’m drunk! Hahaha! I got drunk! ‘Is funny,” Roman laughs alongside Virgil, squeezing him harder. Virgil maneuvers him to the bed to set him down. Roman lies on his back immediately, spreading out and pulling one of his pillows to his face. The sweet innocent grin that graces his features is juxtaposed with the motion of burying his face in the pillow and saying with a silken voice: “Smells like Virgil. Smells good, I like how you smell. You smell so good. I wanna- I wanna put my hands in your hair. And I… I want to sleep on your chest. Just… just a little nap. You’re so pretty, and you smell good,” 

“Princey, what are you saying?” Virgil gawks. Roman makes a pitiful whimpering noise and making grabby hands at Virgil. He walks over to the bed and sits at the bedside. Roman instantly wraps his hands around Virgil’s slim waist and hugs it tightly. He can feel _the king of this lands’s_ _fucking nose_ drunkenly nuzzling into his side. _This is ridiculous_ , he thinks to himself. “Princey, is this really the thing you want to do on my last night on this earthly plane?” 

“Last?” Roman asks, and it’s so childlike that Virgil regrets bringing it up at all. 

“Yes, you lovable dimwit. It’s that time already,” Virgil sighs, reaching down and petting Roman’s hair. What’s the hurt in it? Roman’s not going to remember this anyway. He’s this close from blacking out. And this is his last day on Earth, after all. He’s supposed to be doing things that he’d never done before. Like carding his fingers through Roman’s hair. He’s always thought it would be soft, from all of the hair products he has, and my goodness it is. Soft, like a rabbit’s fur. Roman lets out a little drunken giggle at the feeling, and then rolls into Virgil’s lap and looks up at him teary eyed. 

“No, no, Virgil, you can’t leave me… you can’t, you can’t! Virgil...” Roman cries into Virgil’s chest, his face scrunched up. Virgil lifts his hands up, biting his lip and unsure of where to go from there. “Virgil, you can’t do that! I don’t want you to leave, Virgil, please,” 

“Princey, I-” Roman grabs the front of Virgil’s prison uniform, suddenly serious and not child-like at all. Tears are sparkling in his eyes. 

“Call me Roman. If-if this is going to be the last time I get to talk to you, I want you to call me by my name. Not a nickname, or an endearment. Roman,” 

“Okay, okay, Roman,” Virgil is delightfully flustered, from Roman’s point of view. 

“Yaaaaay, Virgil. You’re going to stay, you have to stay with me, I command you! I’m the king,” Roman smiles incredibly brightly for being so serious a moment before, hugging Virgil’s torso tightly. It’s awkward. 

“That’s right, you are the king,” 

“Then,” Roman sits up in Virgil’s lap, suddenly straddling him, and pushes him back onto the bed, “You gotta stay with me,” 

“Roman, you know I can’t. You know the rules,” Virgil sighs, moving so that he’s more comfortable on his back rather than thrown across the bed. Roman pouts, tears running down his face, and lies himself utop of Virgil’s body. Virgil, to his credit, makes a baffled noise. 

“I don’t care!” Roman cries out, pounding his fists on Virgil, “I’ll break you out of here, I don’t care, you… you can’t die, you just can’t,” Roman sobs, his hands relaxing to grab fistfuls of Virgil’s shirt and cry onto his chest. Virgil does not approve of the bodily fluids leaking from Roman’s face and onto his only uniform, but it pangs his heart to see Roman so… so uncharacteristically hopeless and depressed. 

“Ro, you can’t be crying, I’m supposed to be the pessimistic one. You have to be saying things like I’ll live in your memory forever or some shit,” 

“But… you won’t be alive. I don’t want you to die, Virgil. I don’t… I don’t want that. I want you to stay with me. You belong with me. I don’t want you to die,” Roman sniffles, looking up at Virgil pitifully. Virgil lets out a disheartened sigh, and pets Roman’s hair. 

“Trust me, I don’t want to die either,” That seems to settle Roman, at least partially, and he lies back down on Virgil’s chest. Virgil breathes in relief that he was able to handle it so quickly, and Roman snuggles closer to his chest.  _ How did we end up like this?  _ Virgil finds himself thinking. 

“How could you not be afraid of this? How are you not terrified and panicking?” Roman murmurs, so soft Virgil wouldn’t be able to hear it if Roman wasn’t actively on top of him. 

“Oh, Roman. I’ve been scared of everything my entire fucking life. The whole thing. There’s rarely been a time I’m not on edge and scared of what could happen. Things in life are constantly changing, constantly unknown. The only thing you can really count on is death. It’s inevitable. I always thought I deserved death, after all: it seemed better than a lot of my life, anyway, even more so when you’re a monster wearing skin,” Virgil’s interrupted from his explanation by Roman whimpering and peering up at him like a frightened little kid. 

“Do you… want to die? You  _ want  _ to leave me? Do you hate me? You hate me?” Roman’s lower lips trembles, about to burst into tears. 

“No, no, no, I don’t, I don’t!” Virgil waves his hands to dissuade him from bawling but he’s too late and Roman continues to cry.  _ Ugh, just like taking care of a baby. Cute, but painful _ . Virgil holds up Roman’s head in his hands so he’s looking at him straight. “Roman, I don’t hate you one bit. It may be because you’re drunk and won’t remember this, but I don’t hate you at all. I really like you. It’s fun to poke fun at you and tease you. You make me… ugh… happy,” 

“Really?” Roman starts to smile, his eyes shining because of happiness or the fading tears he doesn’t know. 

“Really, you silly prince,” Virgil smirks, and Roman clutches onto Virgil even more as he smiles into his chest. “Are you going to stay the whole night?” 

“I’m NoT lEaViNg YoU!!” Roman hollers. Virgil winces, the noise extremely loud and disturbing the calm. He pats Roman’s back, rubbing it whilst silently laughing at him. Trying to get Roman off the bed now would be like trying to kick a puppy off a bed, and it won’t matter anyway. It’s Virgil’s last day. If he wants to let Roman sleep with him, he can fucking let him sleep with him. No one’s going to be able to punish him any more. 

It’s an odd notion, that he could do anything he wants and he’s deciding to lie beside the king. It’s his choice. For the first time… it’s his choice. Completely. Ironic, how his only true taste of freedom is right before his execution. Makes you think. If he did work off his parent’s debt and was let go, what would he do? Explore the world? Maybe, but he doesn’t like feeling so unsafe and exposed. Do more art? Yeah, but he was already doing that. He’s never been interested in romance, or kids, or anything. 

Virgil’s chance to choose what he wants for the first and last time, and he’s choosing… Roman. And he doesn’t completely hate that choice either. 

“Alright, alright. You can stay. There’s enough room on the bed for both of us, if you don’t mind sharing,” 

“Yay!” Roman grins, shucking off his shirt happily. Virgil blinks rapidly, not understanding that when he agreed to let Roman stay it would include no shirt because he’s trying to sleep and would be uncomfortable in it.  _ I mean,  _ he thinks,  _ there’s no harm in it. He gets to sleep, I get to look at his abs for the last hours of my life. Not bad.  _

Roman passes out almost immediately, with a last uttering of Virgil’s name on his lips that ends in a drawn out breath. Virgil adjusts them on the bed, so that Roman can also have his head on the pillow and grasping Virgil’s torso. They now lie side by side. Each inhale of air he takes brings with it a waft of Roman’s soap and shampoo, each touch of his fingers on Roman’s back making him warm. It’s soothing and comfortable, and Virgil hates himself for not thinking of this sooner. 

Things could have been different. 

_ Did you ever realize that when you sleep in a place with constant muted light, you can’t tell when you wake up if any time has passed? It could be dusk, or dawn, or anything in between. You just don’t know. It feels like only seconds since you drifted off, and yet you somehow know it’s not. You know, when you wake up, you’ll want to run. You’ll scream to run, and run, and run, because if you stay, you’ll be torn apart? You don’t want to hear the things people will say in the morning. You don’t want to wake up. If you don’t wake up, you’ll never know what time it is, and you’ll never have to run.  _

These are the thoughts that cloud Roman’s hungover mind as he tries to force himself back to sleep. He’s extremely comfortable right now. Funny, since he hasn’t been sleeping well this whole week. You’d think that he’d be plagued with horrible nightmares of Virgil’s execution that morning. Perhaps the alcohol did its job, and he’d been completely knocked out by it. He can’t remember much of anything, so he hopes that he just passed out in his bed- Roman opens his eyes, and curses aloud. 

That is Virgil. 

He is in Virgil’s cell. 

In Virgil’s bed. 

Mere inches from his face. 

Virgil opens his eyes lazily, yawns and stretches. Roman’s mouth can’t seem to close. What the hell did he do last night? Did he…  _ have sex with Virgil while drunk the day before he was supposed to die and he can’t even remember it???  _

“Morning, Romano,” he says, his voice thick with sleep, “Did you sleep okay? You were not looking so hot after last night,” 

“Oh my god, I am SO sorry, I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing and I get all flirty and singy when I’m drunk and I’m so sorry, what did I do to you?” 

“You don’t even remember what you did?” Virgi’s eyes widen. Trepidation floods through Roman. 

“Oh shit,” he says. Virgil then breaks into laughter and punches him in the side.  _ Ow _ . 

“Pfft, you’re so gullible. You were fucking hammered when you showed up and pretty much acted like the grade-A idiot you are and fumbled around like a buffoon. You climbed into my bed and feel asleep,” 

“That’s all I did?”  _ Didn’t say ‘I love you’ or anything? Didn’t cry?  _

“Yup. Just abnormal levels of stupidity,” Virgil then smiles at him. It’s not his usual smirk or even a teasing smile. Just… a little cute one that Roman can’t help but return. 

“I’m good at that,” Roman says, watching in shock as Virgil ruffles his hair. It feels nice, and helps him ignore the hellish headache he has. There are footsteps sounding down the hallway. Virgil sighs, closing his eyes. It takes Roman a moment to remember. “No no no no, no. It’s not happening. I’m not letting you go,” 

“You’ve got to, Roman,” Virgil says.  _ Has Virgil ever called me by my name?  _ Roman’s heart is beating too fast as Janus, Logan, and the executioner come into view. They all look saddened by what they have to do, except for the executioner who is used to these sort of depressing tasks. 

Roman glares at the people there, trying to stoke his anger but ending up with overwhelming dread. He pushes Virgil back onto the bed, pushes himself in front of him to protect him. He doesn’t resist at all. 

“YOU’RE NOT TAKING HIM!” 

“My king, you cannot halt this. There is no way for it to be undone,” Logan says, his jaw set. You can tell he’s trying to hold in the emotions he most definitely feels. Janus just looks on, stony and visibly shaking. 

“No, no, please… you can have me, just leave him alone,” Roman cries. Virgil struggles enough that in Roman’s weakened state he falls off of him. Virgil grips his shoulders, brings him into a hug. Roman’s crying. “No, no, no,  _ Virgil _ ,” 

“I know, I know, Roman. I know,” Virgil comforts him quietly, rubbing his back in a calming way. Roman can’t stop crying. His head hurts and his heart hurts and his hands are shaking around Virgil’s form. 

“My liege, if I wasn’t contractually obligated to be present I wouldn’t watch this,” Janus notes. 

“I am a servant to the crown, but even I cannot go back on this country's laws by the commands of the king,” the executioner says morosely. 

“If money wasn’t an object, if we could weigh our laws on friendship… it would be corrupt. You must understand this. It isn’t a choice,” Logan explains. 

The words swirl around in his head, paired with the repeating of ‘Virgil’ in his mind. Virgil holds him tightly, as he continues to cry at the idea of letting Virgil go. 

_ Contractually… Virgil… Servant… Virgil… Laws… Money… _

Roman’s got it. He stops crying all at once. _Could it really be that easy?_ _How had we not thought of this before?_

“I’ll pay off Virgil,” he says, unsure. Then, more firm, “I’ll pay off Virgil’s debt,” 

“It would be nice to go out with no outstanding fees, Ro, but I don’t see how that would actually help me,” Virgil laughs unhappily. 

“No, hear me out. The only reason you’re being executed is because you’re a servant in too much outstanding debt. I’ll buy it all out with the royal treasury. You’ll have no debts to pay. You’ll be a normal servant. Then this would be considered unlawful, and you can do whatever you want. You can leave,” Roman thinks aloud. Deceit looks downright upset he didn’t think of it himself, Logan seems sort of shocked that Roman might have used logic to save the day, and the executioner partially disappointed. 

“That… could actually work,” Logan nods, thinking through it in his head for a moment. Then he reaches around to his back pants pocket and produces a paper and a pencil. He then forcibly moves Janus around to his protest so that he can use his back as a writing surface and scrawls words on the paper. Hands it to Roman wordlessly. 

On the paper, it lists Virgil’s current debt (a whooping 456,329 gold coins), the assurance that Roman will pay off all of it, and recisnt the indenturement. They both have to sign their names, and check that they agree. Roman, so incredibly happy that this works, so relieved, can barely stop his hand from shaking badly enough that you can’t tell his signature. He then hands it to Virgil, who looks at him confusedly. 

“Is this… really happening?” 

“Check yes, Juliet. And then you can run as far as you want,” Roman says. He’s tired all of a sudden, the adrenaline rush he’d been riding on to protect Virgil finally dying out. 

Virgil takes the paper, signs his name, and checks yes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments questions concerns!


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want EVERYONE to know that this was, in fact, titled as "EpOloGuie" in my document. I could not remember, for the life of me, how to spell and instead of actually trying it was a moment of "How wrong can I make this?" 
> 
> This is a teeny tiny chapter, actually an infant compared to everything else, but there were ends that needed tying and a prince that needed loving.

Virgil is late. He is late, to his own departure of the palace. How could he be late to such an important event? 

After he had signed the contract, that terrifying morning in the cell that changed everything, Virgil started to recede from Roman's life right away. He didn’t say anything more about his night of drunkenness, or anything he did that morning, just asked to go back to his room. 

Roman wasn’t able to see him for a whole week after that. Wasn't allowed into his room all over again. It felt like torture, just in a romantic sort of way, and on top of that: he’s the one giving Virgil the money that saved his life! Shouldn’t he at least get a thank you? Patton assured Roman that it really makes sense that Virgil would need some space. It was a near-death experience, after all, he’d said, it makes sense that he’d require time to readjust and reassess. Logan had called an old therapist friend of his, Dr. Picani, and he was the only one that Virgil had seen regularly. Picani had only agreed with what Patton said, and guaranteed that this was not only completely normal but encouraged. Virgil should have some time to sort himself out, figure out what he wanted to do. 

Roman didn’t want that. He wants Virgil to give him another hug like he had that day. He wants to wake up in his arms again. He wants Virgil to give him that moony-eyed look more than once. 

Instead, he waited patiently. It’s better for Virgil that way, he thinks to himself, and he doesn’t want Virgil to be unhappy. And a day past, and another, and even more. When Virgil finally emerged, he had packed up the majority of his things. 

‘I’m leaving,’ he had said, averting his eyes. ‘There’re so much out there that I’ve never seen, that I'd never been able to before, and I think I should try and find something for me. Since I was always under someone else,’ 

Patton cooed over it, Logan nodded his head in a ‘that’s wise’ kind of motion, Deceit shrugged, Picani gave him thumbs up, and Remus said something characteristically random and unnecessary about dicks and cannibalism. Roman imitated the support of his friends and family, while his heart felt like melting ice cream. It was so sweet and delicious, but someone left it out too long and now it's gone sour. No one noticed. 

So, they all pitched in to get Virgil everything he’d need out in the big world out there. 

As they were going through his room, Roman noticed a particular black sketchbook tucked into one of his bags. Looking about for a moment to see if anyone was paying attention to him (they weren’t), Roman cracks open the book. 

Dozens upon dozens of sketches. Small ones, of objects or sun beams or spiders. Starting out so-so, and with more practice they became masterful. Then, drawings of his friends and family. All of them. They were absolutely beautiful, some coloured but most just done in shadows with charcoal. He flips through the pages, there being an about even mix of all of them. Then, he’s flipping through blank pages. He’s going to stop, if there’s no other drawings- 

Suddenly, there’s more. Roman stops flipping, and looks at a huge drawing of: is that his eyes? The next pages, the next hundred pages in this book… are of him. His heart is beating like a horse at full gallop. It's just Roman, over and over and over and over-

What does this mean? If it means what he  _ wants  _ it to mean, why is he leaving? Does he need a sign? A sign that Roman cares? 

Roman can do that. 

He can sing, he can dance, he can recite prose, he's a fucking romance machine, for goodness sakes-

No. He has to just… say it. If he does it any other way, Virgil will take it for a joke or an insult. And it is most certainly not a joke. 

And that brought him here. Like an idiot, he’d bided his time. It was never the right moment, they were never alone. Virgil was getting over his issues with Deceit. Virgil was learning how to bake cookies with Patton. Virgil was training with Remus. Virgil was in therapy right now. Virgil was sleeping. Virgil was always busy. Virgil never had time for Roman. 

Roman felt like he was grasping for purchase on a slippery slope, and the ground is moving away from him. It makes him jealous of himself, of how easy it was to find Virgil while he worked before all of this had started (and ended). And then he feels guilty atop of that because _of course_ he doesn't want him to be an indentured servant but he wants him to stay. A part of him wants to create some imaginary clause in the contract that fosters some debt with him or some rule that forces him to stay.

But he can't do that. Virgil wouldn't be happy. Virgil will hate him. And that is a million times worse than Virgil leaving. 

So a final push has gotten him this: Virgil is going to be leaving in under an hour. Roman is going to ‘say goodbye’ as Virgil leaves… and he’s already said goodbye to everyone else. He's holding the horse he needs to go out with, all of the supplies in the satchels on each side of the saddle. In theory, Virgil is all ready to go. But is running late. Which is not really good for the trepidation that Roman feels. In fact, all of this waiting is making it grow like a weed. It's choking all the hopeful sprouting flowers in his chest. 

“There you are, Princey! Sorry, Patton started to cry and I didn’t want to leave him,” Virgil tugs his heavy bag behind him as he approaches Roman. 

“It’s fine, I wasn’t worried,” Roman lies through his teeth. Virgil gives him an odd look, cocking his head slightly. 

“Well, this is goodbye, I guess,” he says, rocking back and forth on his heels and looking away. 

“Uh…”  _ Well, now or never _ .

“Virgil,” Roman affirms. 

“That’s me,” Virgil rolls his eyes. 

“V… I…” Roman grits his teeth:  _ he’s leaving, idiot, you may never see him again. It’s now or fucking never. Man up, _ “I like you. A lot. I think… I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time now. I just… had to tell you that. Before you leave,” Roman breathes a sigh of relief at confessing his feelings and looks at his feet shuffle in the ground. There’s nothing for a moment. 

And then, Virgil smacks him across the face. 

“OW!” he clutches the side of his face,  _ that’s gonna leave a mark _ . _This is not going how I thought it would go. This is bad, right?_

“ALL OF THIS COULD HAVE BEEN AVOIDED IF YOU WERE JUST HONEST AT THE BEGINNING, YOU TOTAL BUFFOON! IF I WERE THE ROYAL CONSORT, I WOULD HAVE NEVER BEEN IN JAIL IN THE FIRST PLACE!” Virgil exasperates, his face flushed with indignation. Roman looks at him in shock. His fingers fall from his cheek. _Well, is this bad? I don't know anymore._

“Wha-” 

He is cut off by Virgil kissing him firmly. His mouth is sliding against Roman’s, tilted at a perfect angle. He whimpers into the kiss, unsure if this is real life, but reaching forwards to grab Virgil. Virgil wraps his arms around Roman’s neck, Roman holds him by the waist. _No, this is good. This is very very good. Good good good._

They separate after they both are short of breath. 

“So, are you staying?” Roman asks bashfully. He already knows the answer. 

“You bet your ass I am,” Virgil breathes, his hood finally falling about his shoulders so he’s haloed by the light from beyond the horizon.  _ Beautiful, _ Roman thinks to himself. _He's beautiful._

They go in for round two.

(The horse is confused, and walks himself back to the stable. He doesn't need to see this)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading. I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Maybe, since a few things like Patton coming out to Roman and other hinted at ships, were never resolved I may make a tag along piece but I'm not sure. 
> 
> Either way, that's all for now!

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a gift to dearest michellechen2004, as I had been looking FREAKING EVERYWHRERE for someone to talk about Sanders Sides with after the newest episode came out and she came in strong. And then, we were like... maybe I should write somethin. 
> 
> Here's something. 
> 
> (Title from the song Check Yes, Juliet by We The Kings)


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